He understood that he was assisting at an historical event. For
to-day practically marked, in England at any rate, the practical
recognition of the two principles which up to now had been found,
from their mutual irreconcilability, the cause of practically all
the wars, all the revolutions, all the incessant human quarrels
and conflicts, of which history was chiefly composed--their
recognition and their adjustment. These two principles were the
liberty of the individual and the demands of society. On one
side, every man had a certain inherent right to demand freedom;
on the other, the freedom of one individual was usually found to
mean the servitude of another. The solution, he began to think,
had arrived at last from the recognition that there were, after
all, only two logical theories of government: the one, that power
came from below, the other, that power came from above. The
infidel, the Socialist, the materialist, the democrat, these
maintained the one; the Catholic, the Monarchist, the Imperialist
maintained the other. For the two, he perceived, rose ultimately
from two final theories of the universe: the one was that of
Monism--that all life was one, gradually realizing itself through
growth and civilization; the other that of Creation--that a
Transcendent God had made the world, and delegated His sovereign
authority downwards through grade after grade.
So he meditated, remembering also that the former theory was
rapidly disappearing from the world. These Socialist colonies
were not to be eternal, after all: they were but temporary
refuges for minds that were behind the age. Probably another
century or two would see their disappearance.
The second and third boats started almost simultaneously, each
suddenly sliding free from either side of the stage. There was a
ringing of bells; one boat, he saw, shot ahead in a straight
line, the other curved out southwards. He watched the second.
It resembled to his eyes a gigantic dragon-fly--a long gleaming
body, ribbed and lined, blazing and winking in the spring
sunlight, moving in a mist of whirling wings. From the angle at
which he watched its curve, it seemed now to hang suspended,
diminishing to the eye, now shooting suddenly ahead. . . . There
it hung again, already a mile away, as if poised and considering,
then with increasing speed it moved on and on, like a line of
brilliant light; little metallic taps sounded across the water;
it met the horizon, rose above it, darkened, again flashed
suddenly. . . .
He turned to look for the other; but, so far as he could
see, the huge blue arc was empty. He turned again; and the
third too was gone.
A great ringing of bells sounded suddenly beneath him.
"You've got your luggage on board, Monsignor? . . . Well, you'd
better be going on board yourself. She'll start in five minutes."
(III)
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account