all is permitted to genius, and it is perhaps a grim way of giving us ample warning. But men of practical purpose have a different aim. The railways, the factories, the telegraphs, the gas, the electric wonders of all kinds, are here. No latter-day sermons or societies of 5 St. George can get rid of them, or persuade men to give up what they find so enormously convenient. Nay, the case is far stronger than this. These things are among the most precious achievements of the human race, or rather, they will be, when we have learned how to use 10 them without all the evils they bring with them. Man, in his desperate struggle with the forces of nature, is far too slightly armed to dispense with any one of the appliances that the genius of man can discover. He needs them all to get nearer to the mystery of the world, to 15 furnish his material wants, to raise and beautify his personal and social life. There is one way in which they may be made a curse, not a blessing, and that is to exaggerate their value, to think that new material appliances to life form a truly higher life; that a man is ipso facto a nobler being because he can travel a thousand miles in twenty-four hours and hear the words that a man is speaking in New York. What has happened to the nineteenth century is what happens to a country when a gold-field is suddenly discovered. Civilized life 25 for the time seems dancing mad; and though men will give a hundred dollars for a glass of champagne, degradation and want are commoner even than nuggets. It is significant that the most powerful pictures of degradation which the American continent has produced 30 were drawn in the Western gold-fields, and the most serious scheme of modern communism has been thought out in the same ground. But the nugget (the sudden acquisition of vast material resources) makes havoc in 20 London and Manchester as much as in San Francisco or Melbourne. It does not follow, as some prophets tell us, that gold is not a useful metal, only we may buy gold too dear. 10 Socially, morally, and intellectually speaking, an era 5 of extraordinary changes is an age that has cast on it quite exceptional duties. A child might as well play with a steam-engine or an electric machine as we could prudently accept our material triumphs with a mere "rest and be thankful." To decry steam and electricity," inventions and products, is hardly more foolish than to deny the price which civilization itself has to pay for the use of them. There are forces at work now, forces more unwearied than steam, and brighter than the electric arc, to rehumanize the dehumanized members of 15 society; to assert the old immutable truths, to appeal to the old indestructible instinct, to recall beauty; forces yearning for rest, grace, and harmony; rallying all that is organic in man's social nature, and proclaiming the value of spiritual life over material life. But 20 there never was a century in human history when these forces had a field so vast before them, or issues so momentous on their failure or their success. There never was an age when the need was so urgent for synthetic habits of thought, systematic education, and a common 25 moral and religious faith. There is much to show that our better genius is awakened to the task. Stupefied with smoke, and stunned with steam-whistles, there was a moment when the century listened with equanimity to the vulgarest of its flatterers. But if Machinery were really its last word, we should all be rushing violently down a steep place, like the herd of swine. 30 5 LXXVI. LYCIDAS. BY JOHN MILTON.' YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring; With lucky words favor my destin'd urn, And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud! For we were nurs'd' upon the self-same hill, 20 25 15 10 We drove a-field, and both together heard Toward heav'n's descent had slop'd his westering wheel. Temper'd to the oaten flute; Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns" with cloven heel From the glad sound would not be absent long, And old Damotas" lov'd to hear our song. But O the heavy change, now thou art gone— The willows and the hazel copses green Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. 15 Where were ye, Nymphs," when the remorseless deep Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep,' Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva" spreads her wizard stream. Ay me, I fondly" dream! Had ye been there-for what could that have done? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus" bore, The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, Whom universal nature did lament, 10 15 20 25 30 When by the rout that made the hideous roar, Alas! what boots20 it with incessant care Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise To scorn delights, and live laborious days; 24 Set off to the world, nor in broad rumor lies, Of so much fame in heav'n expect thy meed." And listens to the herald of the sea27 That came in Neptune's plea. 20 25 30 15 10 He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds, What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain? And question'd every gust of rugged wings That blows from off each beaked promontory. 5 |