The Big Bow Mystery | Page 9

is a prophet in his own country, and,
even if he migrates, it is advisable for him to leave his family at home.
His friends were a motley crew; friends of the same friend are not
necessarily friends of one another. But their diversity only made the
congruity of the tale they had to tell more striking. It was the tale of a
man who had never made an enemy even by benefiting him, nor lost a
friend even by refusing his favours; the tale of a man whose heart

overflowed with peace and goodwill to all men all the year round; of a
man to whom Christmas came not once, but three hundred and
sixty-five times a year; it was the tale of a brilliant intellect, who gave
up to mankind what was meant for himself, and worked as a labourer in
the vineyard of humanity, never crying that the grapes were sour; of a
man uniformly cheerful and of good courage, living in that
forgetfulness of self which is the truest antidote to despair. And yet
there was not quite wanting the note of pain to jar the harmony and
make it human. Richard Elton, his chum from boyhood, and vicar of
Somerton, in Midlandshire, handed to the coroner a letter received from
the deceased about ten days before his death, containing some passages
which the coroner read aloud:--"Do you know anything of
Schopenhauer? I mean anything beyond the current misconceptions? I
have been making his acquaintance lately. He is an agreeable rattle of a
pessimist; his essay on 'The Misery of Mankind' is quite lively reading.
At first his assimilation of Christianity and Pessimism (it occurs in his
essay on 'Suicide') dazzled me as an audacious paradox. But there is
truth in it. Verily the whole creation groaneth and travaileth, and man is
a degraded monster, and sin is over all. Ah, my friend, I have shed
many of my illusions since I came to this seething hive of misery and
wrongdoing. What shall one man's life--a million men's lives--avail
against the corruption, the vulgarity, and the squalor of civilisation?
Sometimes I feel like a farthing rushlight in the Hall of Eblis.
Selfishness is so long and life so short. And the worst of it is that
everybody is so beastly contented. The poor no more desire comfort
than the rich culture. The woman, to whom a penny school fee for her
child represents an appreciable slice of her income, is satisfied that the
rich we shall always have with us.
"The real old Tories are the paupers in the Workhouse. The radical
working men are jealous of their own leaders, and the leaders are
jealous of one another. Schopenhauer must have organised a Labour
Party in his salad days. And yet one can't help feeling that he
committed suicide as a philosopher by not committing it as a man. He
claims kinship with Buddha, too; though Esoteric Buddhism at least
seems spheres removed from the philosophy of 'the Will and the Idea.'
What a wonderful woman Madame Blavatsky must be! I can't say I

follow her, for she is up in the clouds nearly all the time, and I haven't
as yet developed an astral body. Shall I send you on her book? It is
fascinating.... I am becoming quite a fluent orator. One soon gets into
the way of it. The horrible thing is that you catch yourself saying things
to lead up to 'Cheers' instead of sticking to the plain realities of the
business. Lucy is still doing the galleries in Italy. It used to pain me
sometimes to think of my darling's happiness when I came across a
flat-chested factory-girl. Now I feel her happiness is as important as a
factory-girl's."
Lucy, the witness explained, was Lucy Brent, the betrothed of the
deceased. The poor girl had been telegraphed for, and had started for
England. The witness stated that the outburst of despondency in this
letter was almost a solitary one, most of the letters in his possession
being bright, buoyant, and hopeful. Even this letter ended with a
humorous statement of the writer's manifold plans and projects for the
New Year. The deceased was a good Churchman.
CORONER: Was there any private trouble in his own life to account
for the temporary despondency?
WITNESS: Not so far as I am aware. His financial position was
exceptionally favourable.
CORONER: There had been no quarrel with Miss Brent?
WITNESS: I have the best authority for saying that no shadow of
difference had ever come between them.
CORONER: Was the deceased left-handed?
WITNESS: Certainly not. He was not even ambidexter.
A JURYMAN: Isn't Shoppinhour one of the infidel writers, published
by the Freethought Publication Society?
WITNESS: I do not know who publishes his books.

The JURYMAN (a small