FOOTING IT

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXI, Issue 21698, 13 January 1934, Page 1 (Supplement)

FOOTING IT

BY MATANGA

HAWTHORNE'S HOMILY

In the early days of a new year comes a shock to many. It is the discovery that this business of living is not a matter of long leaps, far flights, travel by any magic carpet ancient or modern, but footing it, just footing it. As the routine of daily work is taken up again after holiday and resolutions prompted by the new year are tested in the cold light of fact, the impossibility' of doing things by sudden snatches of effort is seen somewhat appallingly. To have to get back to " just inchin' along " is irksome, never more so. But, except for strangely unusual experiences, this pedestrian sort of travel is compulsory. Only the descent to Avernus is easily swift; the workaday track of decent doing goes uphill steadily, or at least is an uninviting, habitual level. And in an ago of mechanised speed of transport, rushes of adventure hither and thither in the earth, breaking of aviators' records and kindred spasms of time-conquest, the thought of " foot —foot —foot —foot — sloggin' over Africa " seeins somehow wrong. It is eternally right. Let a thousand considerations, gathered from everywhere, prove it so. Look for them. It was in another such age, and amid a people destined to get a largely fictitious reputation for " hustle," that Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote his exquisite satire, " The Celestial Railroad." Railways were then in their precocious infancy, and Americans were getting alluring glimpses of vast attainments in a twinkling. To call them back to sanity of soul was Hawthorne's wish, and lie used the immortal allegory of John Bunyan as a means, turning it about in whimsical fashion to teach what he realised was vital. That was about a hundred years ago—actually in the year when Boston's first railway was begun. Bunvan's book was one of Hawthorne's boyish delights, and New England theological happenings prompted him to deal in this fantasy, written upon the basis of the Bedford brazier's dream, with their bearing upoiv simpler beliefs then exposed to odium. As a championship of unsophisticated faith, it was as effective in its satire at it was attractive in its style: but to-day, and quite apart from its local prompting, it can bo enjoyed to an even greater extent. To our outlook on 1934 it can impart a wholesome touch.

Checked Luggage Its very title is full of delicious suggestion. "Fancy a railroad, fitted up for the conveyance of comfortable companies, from the City of Destruction to the Celestial Gate!. And the journey's details abound in impressive teaching of the grotesque folly of the notion. The dreamer, in Hawthorne's story, takes his journey with a Air. Smooth-lt-away—a native of the City of Destruction, who had never actually visited the Celestial City, but wns a director of the railroad company and could talk glibly about the improvements of the means of travel. By coach the two went as far as the site of the little wicket gate of Bunyan's tale, crossing over the disagreeable Slough of Despond by a disquietingly flimsy bridge. The gate itself had been widened since Bunyan's day, and the identity of Christian's old friend, Evangelist, apparently there in charge of the ticket office, was seriously denied by some. Little square pieces of pasteboard proved more convenient than the antique roll of parchment. A large number of passengers boarded the train; they were gentry and the flower of fashionable society. The conversation was so tasteful that " even an infidel would have heard little or nothing to shock his sensibility." The travellers' enormous burdens, instead of being carried upon their backs, were stowed safely in a luggage-van, to be delivered again to them at the journey's end. A compromise between Beelzebub and the authorities of the road had resulted in the freedom of the travellers from hostility and the employment of that prince's subjects about the railway stations.

Changes in the Route Greatheart had refused obstinately the position of brakeman, and Apollyon,' Christian's old enemy, still fearsome in visage, had become chief engine-driver. The latter's special delight was to putt smoke and flame from the engine upon the occasional foot-passengers found upon the adjacent road—two of these were so treated upon this dreamer s journey. • . It was found impossible to visit the Interpreter's House: "It is not one of our stations," explained Mr. Smooth-it-away. Tho tram made no stop at the place where Christian's burden fell from his shoulders at the side-of-the-Cross; Mr. Sniootli-it-away, Mr. Ln e-for-the-world, Mr. Hide-sin-in-the-heart, Mr. Scaly-conscience, and a knot of gentlemen from the town of Shunrepentance, descanted upon the inestimable advantage of the safety of their baggage, full of favourite habits and other things they esteemed precious. A tunnel' went beneath the Hill Difficulty, and the Valley of Humiliation had been filled up. So the route missed tho Palace Beautiful, whose hospitable maidens were talked of as old maids, prim, starched, dry and angular. It was noticeable that Apollyon speeded up past the place where he had fought with Christian. Through the, Valley of the Shadow of Death there were flaring lights, four rows of them; yet they could not take away all its terror, for "sometimes, in tho dark of intense brightness, grim faces, that bore tho aspect and expression of individual sins, or evil passions, seemed to thrust themselves through the veil of light, glaring upon us, and stretching forth a great, dusky hand, as if to impede our progress."

Stopping Places At a station in this valley, Mr. Take-it-easy was met; lie had given up the idea of getting to the Celestial City, because it was on a hill, and there was (he understood) no business doing, no fun going on, nothing to drink, and 110 smoking allowed. Vanity Fair was the next stopping place, and hero the dreamer stayed quite a while, becoming acquainted with its folk and accustomed to its life, until one day the two foot-passengers of earlier appearance reached it. They—Mr. Stick-to-the-right and Mr. l*oot-it-to-hea\en seemed strangely out of keeping with it; and the dreamer, after heeding their warnings, went on, still with his plausible companion. Giant Despair's castle was a stopping place; it had become a house of entertainment, after its repair by Mr. Flimsy-faith. The door in the hillside —which the shepherds had told Christian was a byway to hell—was treated as a joke. Beu'lah Land was passed over, and there came the view of the Celestial City at last. There the two foot-travellers were being welcomed with honour and rejoicing. A ricketty steamboat awaited the train's passengers; but. strange to say, Mr. Smooth-it-away did not embark upon it. Instead, he laughed outright at the dreamer, while flames came from his eyes and smoke from his mouth. His 'astonished companion felt the steamboat's paddle-wheels dashing water upon him, and with a heartquake he awoke. " Thank Heaven it was a dream!'' Whatever the speedsters may say life is just footing it. So, once more, out upon the road, to tread it with patience and stout heart.