robert falconer-第140章

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The　old　man　turned　and　looked　at　him　with　a　tenderness　I　had　never

seen　on　his　face　before。　　As　soon　as　I　saw　that；　I　no　longer　doubted

that　he　could　be　saved。



We　found　rooms　in　a　farm…house　on　the　topmost　height。



'These　are　poor　little　hills；　Falconer；'　I　said。　'Yet　they　help　one

like　mountains。'



'The　whole　question　is；'　he　returned；　'whether　they　are　high　enough

to　lift　you　out　of　the　dirt。　　Here　we　are　in　the　airs　of

heaventhat　is　all　we　need。'



'They　make　me　think　how　often；　amongst　the　country　people　of

Scotland；　I　have　wondered　at　the　clay…feet　upon　which　a　golden　head

of　wisdom　stood！　　What　poor　needs；　what　humble　aims；　what　a　narrow

basement　generally；　was　sufficient　to　support　the　statues　of

pure…eyed　Faith　and　white…handed　Hope；'



'Yes；'　said　Falconer：　'he　who　is　faithful　over　a　few　things　is　a

lord　of　cities。　　It　does　not　matter　whether　you　preach　in

Westminster　Abbey；　or　teach　a　ragged　class；　so　you　be　faithful。　　The

faithfulness　is　all。'



After　an　early　dinner　we　went　out　for　a　walk；　but　we　did　not　go　far

before　we　sat　down　upon　the　grass。　　Falconer　laid　himself　at　full

length　and　gazed　upwards。



'When　I　look　like　this　into　the　blue　sky；'　he　said；　after　a　moment's

silence；　'it　seems　so　deep；　so　peaceful；　so　full　of　a　mysterious

tenderness；　that　I　could　lie　for　centuries；　and　wait　for　the　dawning

of　the　face　of　God　out　of　the　awful　loving…kindness。'



I　had　never　heard　Falconer　talk　of　his　own　present　feelings　in　this

manner；　but　glancing　at　the　face　of　his　father　with　a　sense　of　his

unfitness　to　hear　such　a　lofty　utterance；　I　saw　at　once　that　it　was

for　his　sake　that　he　had　thus　spoken。　　The　old　man　had　thrown

himself　back　too；　and　was　gazing　into　the　sky；　puzzling　himself；　I

could　see；　to　comprehend　what　his　son　could　mean。　　I　fear　he

concluded；　for　the　time；　that　Robert　was　not　gifted　with　the　amount

of　common…sense　belonging　of　right　to　the　Falconer　family；　and　that

much　religion　had　made　him　a　dreamer。　　Still；　I　thought　I　could　see

a　kind　of　awe　pass　like　a　spiritual　shadow　across　his　face　as　he

gazed　into　the　blue　gulfs　over　him。　　No　one　can　detect　the　first

beginnings　of　any　life；　and　those　of　spiritual　emotion　must　more

than　any　lie　beyond　our　ken：　there　is　infinite　room　for　hope。

Falconer　said　no　more。　　We　betook　ourselves　early　within　doors；　and

he　read　King　Lear　to　us；　expounding　the　spiritual　history　of　the

poor　old　king　after　a　fashion　I　had　never　conceivedshowing　us　how

the　said　history　was　all　compressed；　as　far　as　human　eye　could　see

of　it；　into　the　few　months　that　elapsed　between　his　abdication　and

his　death；　how　in　that　short　time　he　had　to　learn　everything　that　he

ought　to　have　been　learning　all　his　life；　and　how；　because　he　had

put　it　off　so　long；　the　lessons　that　had　then　to　be　given　him　were

awfully　severe。



I　thought　what　a　change　it　was　for　the　old　man　to　lift　his　head　into

the　air　of　thought　and　life；　out　of　the　sloughs　of　misery　in　which

he　had　been　wallowing　for　years。









CHAPTER　XVII。



IN　THE　COUNTRY。



The　next　morning　Falconer；　who　knew　the　country；　took　us　out　for　a

drive。　　We　passed　through　lanes　and　gates　out　upon　all　open　moor；

where　he　stopped　the　carriage；　and　led　us　a　few　yards　on　one　side。

Suddenly；　hundreds　of　feet　below　us；　down　what　seemed　an　almost

precipitous　descent；　we　saw　the　wood…embosomed；　stream…trodden

valley　we　had　left　the　day　before。　　Enough　had　been　cleft　and

scooped　seawards　out　of　the　lofty　table…land　to　give　room　for　a　few

little　conical　hills　with　curious　peaks　of　bare　rock。　　At　the　bases

of　these　hills　flowed　noisily　two　or　three　streams；　which　joined　in

one；　and　trotted　out　to　sea　over　rocks　and　stones。　　The　hills　and

the　sides　of　the　great　cleft　were　half　of　them　green　with　grass；　and

half　of　them　robed　in　the　autumnal　foliage　of　thick　woods。　　By　the

streams　and　in　the　woods　nestled　pretty　houses；　and　away　at　the

mouth　of　the　valley　and　the　stream　lay　the　village。　　All　around；　on

our　level；　stretched　farm　and　moorland。



When　Andrew　Falconer　stood　so　unexpectedly　on　the　verge　of　the　steep

descent；　he　trembled　and　started　back　with　fright。　　His　son　made　him

sit　down　a　little　way　off；　where　yet　we　could　see　into　the　valley。

The　sun　was　hot；　the　air　clear　and　mild；　and　the　sea　broke　its　blue

floor　into　innumerable　sparkles　of　radiance。　　We　sat　for　a　while　in

silence。



'Are　you　sure；'　I　said；　in　the　hope　of　setting　my　friend　talking；

'that　there　is　no　horrid　pool　down　there？　no　half…trampled　thicket；

with　broken　pottery　and　shreds　of　tin　lying　about？　no　dead　carcass；

or　dirty　cottage；　with　miserable　wife　and　greedy　children？　　When　I

was　a　child；　I　knew　a　lovely　place　that　I　could　not　half　enjoy；

because；　although　hidden　from　my　view；　an　ugly　stagnation；　half　mud；

half　water；　lay　in　a　certain　spot　below　me。　　When　I　had　to　pass　it；

I　used　to　creep　by　with　a　kind　of　dull　terror；　mingled　with　hopeless

disgust；　and　I　have　never　got　over　the　feeling。'



'You　remind　me　much　of　a　friend　of　mine　of　whom　I　have　spoken　to　you

before；'　said　Falconer；　'Eric　Ericson。　　I　have　shown　you　many　of　his

verses；　but　I　don't　think　I　ever　showed　you　one　little　poem

containing　an　expression　of　the　same　feeling。　　I　think　I　can　repeat

it。



'Some　men　there　are　who　cannot　spare

A　single　tear　until　they　feel

The　last　cold　pressure；　and　the　heel

Is　stamped　upon　the　outmost　layer。



And；　waking；　some　will　sigh　to　think

The　clouds　have　borrowed　winter's　wing

Sad　winter　when　the　grasses　spring

No　more　about　the　fountain's　brink。



And　some　would　call　me　coward…fool：

I　lay　a　claim　to　better　blood；

But　yet　a　heap　of　idle　mud

Hath　power　to　make　me　sorrowful。



I　sat　thinking　over　the　verses；　for　I　found　the　feeling　a　little

difficult　to　follow；　although　the　last　stanza　was　plain　enough。

Falconer　resumed。



'I　think　this　is　as　likely　as　any　place；'　he　said；　'to　be　free　of

such　physical　blots。　　For　the　moral　I　cannot　say。　　But　I　have

learned；　I　hope；　not　to　be　too　fastidiousI　mean　so　as　to　be　unjust

to　the　whole　because　of　the　part。　　The　impression　made　by　a　whole　is

just　as　true　as　the　result　of　an　analysis；　and　is　greater　and　more

valuable　in　every　respect。　　If　we　rejoice　in　the　beauty　of　the

whole；　the　other　is　sufficiently　forgotten。　　For　moral　ugliness；　it

ceases　to　distress　in　proportion　as　we　labour　to　remove　it；　and

regard　it　in　its　true　relations　to　all　that　surrounds　it。　　There　is

an　old　legend　which　I　dare　say　you　know。　　The　Saviour　and　his

disciples　were　walking　along　the　way；　when　they　came　upon　a　dead

dog。　　The　disciples　did　not　conceal　their　disgust。　　The　Saviour

said：　〃How　white　its　teeth　are！〃'



'That　is　very　beautiful；'　I　rejoined。　'Thank　God　for　that。　　It　is

true；　whether　invented　or　not。　　But；'　I　added；　'it　does　not　quite

answer　to　the　question　about　which　we　have　been　talking。　　The　Lord

got　rid　of　the　pain　of　the　ugliness　by　finding　the　beautiful　in　it。'



'It　does　correspond；　however；　I　think；　in　principle；'　returned

Falconer；　'only　it　goes　much　farther；　making　the　exceptional　beauty

hallow　the　general　uglinesswhich　is　the　true　way；　for　beauty　is

life；　and　therefore　infinitely　deeper　and　more　powerful　than

ugliness　which　is　death。　〃A　dram　of　sweet；〃　says　Spenser；　'is　worth

a　pound　of　sour。〃'



It　was　so　delightful　to　hear　him　talkfor　what　he　said　was　not　only

far　finer　than　my　record　of　it；　but　the　whole　man　spoke　as　well　as

his　mouththat　I　sought　to　start　him　again。



'I　wish；'　I　said；　'that　I　could　see　things　as　you　doin　great

masses　of　harmonious　unity。　　I　am　only　able　to　see　a　truth　sparkling

here　and　there；　and　to　try　to　lay　hold　of　it。　　When　I　aim　at　more；　I

am　like　Noah's　dove；　without　a　place　to　rest　the　sole　of　my　foot。'



'That　is　the　only　way　to　begin。　　Leave　the　large　vision　to　itself；

and　look　well　after　your　sparkles。　　You　will　find　them　grow　and

gather　and　unite；　until　you　are　afloat　on　a　sea　o