WHO PUNS THE MARCH?

Evening Star, Issue 20422, 1 March 1930, Page 2

WHO PUNS THE MARCH?

What march? The march of life, of course. The answer of many would bo in the word;, of the well-known hymn, ‘Ho Lea doth Me.’ Matthew Arnold expresses it in ‘ Rugby Chapel.’ He sees tho host of mankind on its march amid tho hills and rocks of tho wood—a feeble wavering line. And he asks: Whither is it bound for? Whither tending? And he says A God Marshalled them, gave them their goal. With that every instructed mind is likely to agree. But that problem belongs to what philosophers would call final 'cause, or a final cause, and into that we do nob propose just now to enter. Wo want to look at tho subject from a different angle. It may bo indicated by this story about General Grant. There was at one time much debate by the public and the newspapers as to tho famous march through Georgia. Grant was asked Who planned it? He answered at once “The enemy,” and ho added: “ The enemy usually makes your plans for yon.” That is what we want to develop.

“ The enemy.” Who or what is he? We had better just begin with oneself. We say that a man is often his own worst enemy. It is true both historically and theologically. According to the old story, he started life under the fairest condition. He was set in the most favourable environment. He had a fair day’s work and a fair day’s wage. But he violated the terms of his lease, and the contract was ended. He landed in a position where the god of necessity > said to him “work or starve.” And he has never really got away from that original state. Hunger and work dictate the march of mankind to-day. We may call them enemies, and in one sense they sre. But in another and deeper sense they are not- We speak ironically of our friend the enemy. That is true in this instance. Hunger and work are the best friends of man, and they direct his migrations to-day. As we look out over tho world wo see it on the move everywhere. It is oft the chain. It has pulled tip its tent poles, and is on the march. What is it that stings it forth and orders its direction? Now, as of old, it is tho enemy in the form of hunger and work. The old necessity that sent primitive man into the forest to get food keeps his modem brothers at their tasks.

Or if «•« look into individual life wo see the same tiling. Wo see how it is the enemy, or the seeming enemy, that orders the march. How full is history of illustrations of this. They aro met with on almost every page. Take one that relates to a subject of local interest. About the beginning of tho nineteenth century a young American was studying art in London. Ho gave every promise of a brilliant career, especially as a portrait painter. Of one exhibition where there were a thousand pictures, including some ,by Turner, Lawrence, Wilkie, etc., the critics singled his out as among the best of them all. His ambition was to revive the ancient .glows of tho fifteenth century, of a Raphael, a Michael Angelo, or a Titian. “ f wish lo shine, not by light borrowed from them, but to strive to shine the brightest possible of my own.” After his return to America ho got commissions to paint the portraits of many of its famous men —President Monroe, Lafayette, Henry Clay, Thorwaldsen, William Cullen Bryant, etc. By and by there came the selection of an artist to paint the great historical panels of the Capitol at Washington. The young man’s claims were endorsed by the highest authorities. It was proposed by the Congress committee to throw tho competitio'ii open to all countries, as it was stated there were no artists of sufficient ability in America to paint such pictures. A caustic reply appeared anonymously iu tho New York ‘Evening Post.’ Tho artist could write as well as paint, and it was attributed to his facile pen. The real author turned out to bo James Fenimore Cooper. But this was known too late, and tho distinguished artist’s name was rejected by the committee. It was a terrible blow to his artistic ambitions. He could never speak of it in later years unmoved. It practically ended his career as an artist. But, as, is so often tho case, the enemy ordered his march into a new career. He dropped tho brush and threw himself with all the ardour of his nature into what was then looked upon as the schemes of a madman. He struggled on in spite of hardship and privations, and when, as the final result, he gave to the world tho electric telegraph the world hailed Samuel E. B. Morse—for this was his name—as ono of its most wonderful men. Perhaps the memory of all these struggles suggested to him the first message oyer the first telegraph line; “What hath God wrought?” Wo hail Morse’s achievement now as ono of tho chief factors that help to unite tho nations of the world. As Whittier sang:

Weave on, swift shuttle of the Lord, Beneath the deep afar. The bridal robe of earth’s accord, The burial slnoud of war. It is but one illustration of a thousand where the enemy who orders our march turns out to be the best of friends for us and others. Take one more on a still larger scale. The sound of the Christmas bells has hardly died out of ears yet. In the history of Him who is the central subject of Christmas hopes and joys it is recorded that when lie wms yet a child Ho ami His parents were ordered to tlco into Egypt for. safety, that thus an ancient prophecy might ho fulfilled, “out of Egypt have I called my Son.” What a strange, unlikely prophecy! How incredible it appeared that “ Ho should come creeping up out of some obscure place in that God-forsaken land —that land with its cursed past, the home of all sinister and degraded memories in the history of the chosen people.” But yet how often this strange happening has repeated itself in the story of Christianity. Christ is constantly arriving out of unexpected quar-

tors—quarters, indeed, that arc equally as unlikely and impossible to us as was Egypt to the ancient Israelites. It would be easy to show this by numberless illustrations. Space will allow of only one. Somo of us are old enough to remember how tho trend of science was largely materialistic. Atheism had been popularised by men and women of first-rate intellect, like Bradlaugh, Blatchford, Mrs Besant, and a score of others.

Thev asked for no God to explain; They asked but slow shaping of time , To account for the thought m tho brain, And the essence of duty and crime, And the rich varied life of the creatturc, , , With its changes of organ and feature.

Then came the discoveries of the vastness of the universe and the consequent dwarfing of man. But atheism was soon found to bo an impossible creed. Robert Blatchford and Mrs Besant have deserted it long ago. The more popular creed of agnosticism took its place under the influence of Huxley and Herbert Spencer and others. But it is increasingly felt that it is only a halfway house, a shelter on an island round which the sea is gradually creeping up and making it an impossible dwelling place for thoughtful men.

We have not space to show how the revelations of science have ended the materialistic conceptions of the universe. We may take one significant illustration. Those who have read Chesterton’s 1 Orthodoxy,’ not the least suggestive of his books, will remember what he says there as to the effect that the teachings of Huxley and Spencer and Bradlaugh had upon him. He said he had never read a lino of Christian apologetics. But he makes the paradoxical affirmation that it was this trinity, of men who brought him back to orthodox theology. "Our grandmothers, were quite right when they said that Tom Paine and the Freethinkers unsettled the mind. They do. They unsettled mine horribly. The rationalist made me question whether reason was of any use whatever; and when I had finished Herbert Spencer I had got as far as doubting (for the first time) whether evolution had oecured at all. As I laid down the last of Colonel Ingersoll’s atheistic lectures the dreadful thought broke across my mind: ‘Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.’” So it might be show'll in .regard to. other things—Biblical criticism, Socialism, etc. But we pass to a concluding point.

In this strange statement, “out of Egypt I have called my Son,” we get the due as to why the march of progress is usually ordered by the enemy. Why was it necessary that Christ should come up out of Egypt? It was because of man’s sin and stupidity. If there had been no Herod He need nob have gone to Egypt. If the Scribes and Pharisees had not determined to kill Him “He would never have withdrawn from Judea or arrived at the Holy City by way oF Galilee,” which things are all a parable. They indicate to ns that our long and round-about marches are necessitated by our own errors and stupidities. But the wonderful thing is that they aro made, under proper aditions, to work out good and gain for ns. Wo are perpetually being surprised to discover this in ways and, by means of things that seemed hostile to as And so if some enemy seems to be dictating the order of our march let ns keep up heart and hope. And this historic story may end our parable;— On the night before the battle of Waterloo Lord Uxbridge, chief of Wellington’s staff, asked the latter about the plans for to-morrow. Wellington replied: “Who is to begin the battle, Napoleon or I?” “Napoleon, I suppose,” said Uxbridge. “ Well,” responded Wellington, “Napoleon has not, communicated to mo any of his' lilans; how can I tell you mine?” Uxbridge bowed his head and stood silent. Wellington laid his hand on his shoulder and said: “ One thing is sure—you and I will try to do our duty.”