NEGATIVE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2727, 20 June 1906, Page 77

NEGATIVE.

Br Harrt.

What need is there for ..definitions of hope »nd memory? All of us know — perhaps only too well — what both words mean, and how great a parE both memory and hope play in the lives of each one of us present.

Memory, deals essentially with the past. What we have been, what we have done these "comprise what we know as memory, Hope, on rhe other hand, deals with the future — what we shall be, what we shall do. As Lew Wallace says in that great book of v his — "Ben Hut" — "Hope deals with the future. Now and the past are but servants that wait on her with impulse and suggestive circumstance." That is so. Memory is subservient to the superior power of hope, and in the lifehistory of a man it is hope which, plays the more prominent part. Memories are not always sweet and wholesome Hopes are seldom otherwise. Listen to what Lucas Malet says in her book? "The Wages of Sin" — one of the most powerful book-s, perhaps, of our day: "Memori-is are^.precious bad company. If evil memories, wholly bad. If sweet memories, bad company still; since what they speak: of is gone and lo3t to us, useful only for the further furnishing of that House of Regrets, for which in youth we bake ilie bricks, of which in manhood we build the walls, wherein, in old age, we live." Is that not so in very many cases? Let as pause over this quotation for a moment, and consider. "If evil memories, wholly bad company." Is there anyone here who doubts it? "If swee* memories, bad company still." Why should they be so? Our past days, when we look back upon them, are we net saddened by the thought that "Our hearts, like muffled drums, axe beating Funeral marches to the grave." -Our past joys. Is there not a solemn sadness in the thought that these may never again return, or, returning, may never be enjoyed with the same innocence and wholeheartedness? Our past sorrows: do wo not oftentimes brood over them, and ask ourselves vainly the why and the wherefore of such mysteries in life as pain, amd sorrow, and death? Yes, even our sweet memories may be precious bad company, useful only, as Lucas Malet says-, Jbr the further furnishing of that Hovse of Regrets, of which in youth we bake the bricks, for which in manhood we build the walls, in which in old age we live. Yes, memories — even the- best and the sweetest of them — arc depressing. But hope' Ah, is hope ever so depressing? What thougli cur memories aro sad, are not outLopes so much brighter? Is not Scott right when he says that "Hope is brightest when it dawns from fears"? What though our memories are sweet, are not hopes far, far sweeter ? "True hope is swift, and flies with swallows'

wings, Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings."

Perhaps the best contrast ever draw^i between memory and hope in literature has been drawa by Tennyson. One needs only to read his poem "The Two Voices" to know the respective effects of memory and hope. Here are a • few verses. The man is commuw'ng with an inner voice:

"A still_ small voice spake unto me, 'Thou art so full of misery, Were it not better not to be?'"

The voice urges all the sophistries available, points out to the man all his memories. end then finally, in a tone of quiet scorn, .says: "Behold it is the Sabbath morn,' 1 and, looking' out of the window, through which the sweetly-inviting ',church bells .were sending their tones, the people could' be seen wending their way 'to the church, , ! 'Tathcr., mother, and daughter arm in arm, I Passing thee plaoe« where each must rest,I Each entered like, a welcome guest." I Then the voice silenced, and |-"A second voice was at mine ear, A little.~whisper^ silver-clear, A murmur, 'Be of better cheer.' <l Such seemed the whisper at my side : 'What is it thou knowest, sweet voice?' I cried. 'A hidden hope,' the voice replied. "And forth into the fields I went, And Nature's living motion lent The puiso of hope to discontent. "So variously seemed all things wrought: I maivellcd how the mind was brought To anchor by one gloomy thought ; "And wherefore rather made I choice To commune with that barren voice Thau him that said, 'Rejoice, rejoice!'" That is my first point then. Memory tends to make a man pessimistic, while hope has a tendency to make him optimistic, and surely whatsoever tends to moke a man optimistic must be the sweeter.

My next point depends upon what I have just stated. Memory breeds pessimism ; hope tends to optimism. ~ It is not the past we mast look at so much as the future — not what we have been so much as what we shall be. If such were not the case, why should wa hold ideals in front of us, and endeavour to live up to them? Ideals must, of necessity, belong to the future, not to the past. And can we expect to realise our ideals if we let slip our hold upon hope? No! In order to keep that lighthou&e burning in front of us, we must cling fast -to hope. Hope, I maintain, urges man to more strenuous efforts towards self-improvement, towards conquest, towards our ideal, than does memory.

"When Alexonder the Great started on his conquering career he gave away this and that of his possessions. 'But what are you keeping for yourself,' ho was asked. ' Hope.' Ho was right. The same truth is embodied in the old legend of Pandora's box. The gods bad bestowed upon Pandora in a box every possible good; but one day, moved by curiosity, sho opened the box," and all the blessings flew out — save only one. She managed to -shut the lid down upon that one. It was Hope. M«ii are sometimes left with nothing else but hope: and even then their hearts have gone bravely forward."

Now, were memories to be sweeter than hopes, think how senselessly we- should all b© striving! We should all be blindly struggling, looking regretfully back upon our past, for, aft-ei all, is it not the sweetest of our hopes that gives us confidence in the future, that causes us to look forward to the realisation of them, and to the attainment of our ideals? Were they not sweeter than memories, we should all look upon memories as the springs of existence, and all our efforts towards self-improvement would depend upon our memories — not upon our hopes, as they now do. And what would be the result? Would not pessimism rule the world, and optimism ba an unknown quantity? Would not all our strivings be worse than useless — "a dream of a world in the dust, and the shadow of its desire" ?

Does that not prove that the pleasures of Hope are far sweeter than the pleasures of Memory? I think so.

Memories are not so vital to human existence and progress as hopes. One can, in a cense, exist without memories. That is to say, whether a man's memories be bitter or sweet, they need not vitally concrn his future welfare. For memories, after all, are only what a man care 3to remember, or what so impresses him at the time that he is compelled, willing or unwilling, to remember. But how much does a man remember compared to what he ougbt to? Is not Eugene Aram risk*: "It is a strange truth, we do

forget. The summer passes over the furrow, and the corn springs up; the sod forgets the flower of th© past year; the battlefield forgets the blood thai has been spilt upon its turf; the -sky forgets the storm, and the water the noonday sun that slept upon its bosom. AH Nature preaches forgetfulness. Its very order is the progress of oblivion." But can one «xist without hope? No, no one can! Campball retogitised that, for here is what he says in his "Pleasures of Hope" : Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind, But leave — oh! leave the light "of Hope behind ! "What tho' my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel-visits, few and far between. Listen to what Dr Waddell says in a sermon he delivered a couple of years ago on this subject of "Hope" : "What a thing is hope! What- a power it is in the world! Imagine life without hope. What would it become? It could not go on — it would stop — it would wither away. Everything, we may say, depends upon hope, All the activity of man, all his efforts, all his enterprises, create within him a hope of. attaining an end. Once remove this hope, and his movements become senseless, spasmodic, convulsive, like those of someone falling helplessly from a height. To struggle with the inevitable may have something childish in it, but when a man loses faith in the efficiency of his efforts, when he says to himself: 'You are incapable of realising your ideal, progress is useless, the standard of perfection is a dream, and supposing all your desires were gratified, everything would still be vanity' when a man teaches that condition, he sees clearly that if life is to go on, there must be hope. In a word, hope is the universal spring of movement. It is the very element of salvation in every sphere of life. If a man can keep Hope burning, lie is rich — all will be well." Yo übelieve -thai about hope? Then, can you dcubt that the pleasures of Hope ara sweeter than the pleasures of Memory? One last point. Are the pleasures of Hope sweeter than the pleasures of Memory? In the vast army of the world's literature, is not hope the keynote of the greatei number of the poems, songs, and books written? Hope has been the inspiration of the greater number, and surely the authors and composers must have recognised the great truth that hope is sweeter — even than memory. I shall conclude with this little poem, which i)r Waddell is very fond of quoting, and which aptly expresses and confirms all that I have said upon the subject of "Hope" : I hear it singing, sweetly singing, Singing in an undertone, Singing as if God had taught it, It is better further on. Night aiid day sings the singer, Sings it when I sit alone, Sings it when the heart would groan, It is better further on. Sits upon the grave and sings it, Sings it when the heart would groan, Sings it when the shadows darken, It is better further on.