SPECIAL ARTICLE.

Press, Volume LXIII, Issue 19114, 24 September 1927, Page 13

SPECIAL ARTICLE.

SCENERY AND DRAMA. ■ ♦ (gPICIAIXT WRITTEN FOR TOT PEIJS.) [By D'A. Cbessweix.] I. ■fflio could come upon the tonib of torae great and no-ble man or the ruins some building wherein were enacted strange and far-reaching deeds without his spirit, or another's, shall ta v "Begone!" to half that had occupied to so little purpose his feelings nd his thoughts, and summon in its nlace those memories and visions which the curiosity of man and the crumb'Mw (vestiges of antiquity seem <xm- '' cerned in a silent conspiracy to keep alive? The past is a pure beverage, -co foul and thick, that runs underground near Tartarus to emerge as oura as crystal on the Muse's Mount; and how sullied by comparison are those familiar streams in which we daily dip our buckets and do our washing. There j. a thirst in man for that from which Death has filtered, for its own possesion, all that is immediate and mortal; yet having the past at his command he must dress it as nearly as possible in . the semblance of what it was, approximate it to his present earthly condition, that he may see in its 1 assembled gcema every ingredient of which they a re' made: alike the briefness of life, the brightness of fame, and the c-er-taintv of death. If those scattered vestiges can do so much, those half-rifled tombs and heaps of stones, towards this process which poetry perfects, how much more power upon our minds, more efiect upon our feelings, more authority over our speculations has the landscape of any country whose history is well known and whose aspect has little changed. Consider that Caesar landed again in Britain in A.D. 54 and advanced against ttie natives, particularly against the Cassii in whose country I am now writing. Here are the same hills that tired his legions, the same heaven as he saw it, the same air he breathed. ' This much, and more than half of what was England then, could scarcely be detected to have changed. Of the remainder, the forests, the grass and the birds, thev dress and speak as. they did : then, if their numbers and condition 'are not the same. Only Man is rnuch changed, though eternal in his feelings and his fate. Whoever may have that heroic thirst of which I speak, here are the means to indulge it, and to spare. Books and the treasures of art are certainly _to be preferred for this purpose, being often the verv stuff of eternity itself, ffliile the recollection of man, with all its trophies, is no more than the i shadow of eternity on earth, a shadow. Tinlike that eternal light, that would dissolve with man the very instant ne : ceased to be. For this reason we must prefer art and literature for the purpose we have in view. Nevertheless, there is an hourly-increasing reason why an escape into natural surroundings where the vestiges of history may ■ bft traced is a great safety and advantage, insomuch as' hour by hour the uproar, sensuality, and speed of modern life encroach upon tne practice of meditation and faith, and by their very nature, their novelty, and apostasy, cast a doubt upon what is divine. For who .is so certain of himself as to ' remain unmoved in the midst of these devilries? Amid the solitude of Nature there is now a book to be read and .a vision of a different sort to be Jernng directly to one's meditations: jfe'A studies, if somewhat cumbersome literal, 'while the frenzied onrush; of mankind is held at bay by broad; .sgreen acres and the disturbing cer-: jjainty of its dopm forgotten.. Tnere is toothing rio\v between the mind and the ftision it evokes, hut what agrees well; ;-with that vision and refreshes its; source. ; ; < I ant moved to these reflections byt having come northwards from London] saome twenty miles to a cottage on thfef' of the ancient city of St. *?2]bans. Here we are in the midst of Nature in its benign and fertile season, begetter of all that was noble :4nd great in man, and the only source ' d.wnat will be so again. Here in our /rattage garden the plants'have rushed i from their winter roots and j rapist like rockets into flowers and The fields abound in grass, trees are like forests in them-; ; The rain falls in swollen, 1 showers, the '' sun shines w hat the rains have fed. 5 v Swathe clouds take off their dark at\WE?ind cbme in white, lordlv com"Pjjgte to gaze on their work. Beetles /^P n ' ie move > spiders spin, and toads hop as though they were •jfty. . Bv day the swallows dash in «« eaves; in the evening their prey, the gnats, with , »shrieks'. Next come the noiseless "«-and now perhaps a round, warm vuT- j - S a " sen t0 replace the sun. ?«Wianight, when I lie reading in !®pder the. low beams, I hear the 0 arr ive from the belfry and yPand fro in the garden with stifled Sfiks of delight. They have hardly IJfc before the sparrows are awake. fSr j OUr co^a £ e > which is perhaps Wnunared years old, are wall-paint- ■ u%i archery and other matters . careless renovations have half- ■ and ha,lf-revealed. There \ f&S I TIS£ s > to °' " the Tudor rose Fieur-de-lys. I am sitting at in its central room with a WJW table-lamp on a polished table. s s "™. tie frescos of which I speak *Ki' Wfl Jl behind me, and in front J *}°iß® fireplace, so large one can - in ®ide it and look up the s fl t the stars. The windows are - ou t the moths, but now xamine the panes to 6ee I have been attracted them by the light. A few "-SSSt^? 0 there was one so lovely it 35®#the outcast and shrunken spirit f ar ß e fly> sea-green in r transparent as glass, it had room where I was readSVWa I Sad hastily to put out the 8° to bed lest it should •"JRw the flame. brief, are some aspects of * which we are here suri&lin a Pfotle of many colours, of and indescribable richness, fit •te » * '' v ing form of Fame. Fame though it. were well rethe thoughts of men. is the earth and its inter'nK?;yorJeß! its diadem, the darkness Whoever has seen it It so 1 : all else were fancy. w is at work to provide its nearby on the hill of ■ are the proofs of its human TOjLf.? c ®rth.' Here Ccesar reached MS *® of the world and had nothing [ ?felinn^ oD 2 U fi r but death; here were v ' e3 > m artyrs, cardinals, a .hove all here was the first +C 10 England and'here may most compact and exten°f that mighty race. That ■ Jfejt f l . l ® between Nature and hiss P°ke is only possible : , Poetry, and a mvstery not understood. But I 80 ®mer may walk hand in ■ 3W f V#>i ? ear t's desire and I may 1 week by week, its primary J

»SlL^ olinc ? ( l 011 s Page last ! articles written for The , , b y Mr A. E. Mulfian, ; ' e been ma< ie» with " 8 ' * nto 3 00lc > and will B^^|S7J opn 0 pn in that more perma- 3 w , pJoasant'to be able to , j book as a^" bv "The Times j ''' which takes { jg "Pilgrim" correctly c