_Deus Loquitur_
Of course when I made Mr. Trimblerigg, though I had shaped him--I
will not say to my liking, but at least to my satisfaction--I did not
foresee how he would turn out. It is not my custom to look ahead. I
can, to be sure, do so when I please: but that makes the _dénouement_
so dull. I prefer, therefore--and have now made it a rule--that my
creations shall, in what they do, come upon me as a surprise--pleasant
or the reverse. For since I have given them free-will, let me also
have the benefit of it: let them make their own plans, their own
careers,--attributing to me, if they must, those features of both for
which they do not feel themselves responsible; and let me (in the
moment when they think to have fulfilled themselves) experience that
small stimulus of novelty which the infinite variety and individuality
of my creatures is always capable of providing.
For it is this spice of novelty alone which keeps me from being
unutterably disinterested in the workings of what theologians are
pleased to call ‘the moral purpose of the universe.’
So it was that, having shaped Mr. Trimblerigg to my satisfaction, I let
him go. And as, with his future in his own very confident hands, he
went, I did not for the moment trouble to look after him.
When I say that I shaped him to my satisfaction, I am speaking merely
as a craftsman. I knew that I had made a very clever man. As to liking
him, that had nothing to do with craftsmanship, but would depend
entirely on what he did with himself--how he appealed to me as a
student of life, when--laying aside my rôle of maker, I became merely
the observer.
It is always an interesting experiment whether I shall be drawn to
my creations before they become drawn to me. Sometimes I find that
they interest me enormously, even while denying me with their last
breath. But the unrequited affections of a god have always an element
of comedy; for though, in the spiritual direction, one’s creations may
take a way of their own, they are never as quit of us as they suppose;
and when they know it least they come back to us for inspection and
renovation. Even the soul that thinks itself lost is not so lost as to
leave one unaware of its condition; though it may have ceased to call,
its address is still known.
In Mr. Trimblerigg’s case it was all the other way--from the moment
that he discovered me he never let me alone; though I had cast him
forth like bread upon the waters, not expecting to see him again for
many days, he came back to me early, and from that time on gave me the
advantage of his intimate and varying acquaintance to the very end.
I wonder to myself sometimes whether I tried him as much as he tried
me, and whether he managed to like me up to the last. This at least
I found--that by the time he was five years old, whether I liked him
or not, Mr. Trimblerigg liked me; and the reason for his liking was
simple--he found me useful.
For one day, having done something which deserved, or was supposed
to deserve punishment, he lied about it, and was discovered. The
discovery came to his ears before he was actually taxed with it. The
small world on which he stood became suddenly an abyss; lifting up his
feet he fled for refuge to his own chamber, and was about to hide in
the cupboard, when he heard the awful tread of judgment ascending the
stairs. Being clever (for which I admit I was responsible) he realized
how temporary a refuge the cupboard must necessarily be; what he needed
was the eternal; and so, throwing himself on his knees he began praying
to me--aloud. And in his prayer he told the truth, volubly, abundantly,
and without making any excuse for himself. ‘I have told a lie,’ he
cried, ‘O God, I have told a lie!’
The agony of his prayer was heard, not so much by me as by the elder
for whose entry he had so accurately timed it. And who, looking upon
that youthful and ingenuous countenance, could doubt the sincerity of
his grief? His lips quivered, his eyes streamed tears, his nails dug
into his tender flesh, leaving marks. At that sight, at those sounds,
the paternal heart was deeply moved; the birch was laid aside; elder
and younger knelt together and prayed for quite a long time, with
great fervour, fixity, and unanimity of purpose, that henceforth young
Mr. Trimblerigg should be a good boy, and never never again be caught
telling a lie.
That prayer unfortunately was not entirely answered--though between us
we did our best. In the years that followed Mr. Trimblerigg lied often
and well, but was very seldom caught, and still more seldom punished.
The only really important outcome of that incident was that Mr.
Trimblerigg found he liked me; I had been useful to him. And yet I had
done, I protest, absolutely nothing--except making him clever. It was
not through my providential intervention that he liked me, but through
his own. The prayer of faith had saved him from a whipping; it was a
lesson he never forgot.
And so, from that day on, he made me his general help and stay; and
on every occasion of doubt, difficulty, or distress, was able, by
coming to me, to convince himself that he meant well. Never in my whole
world’s existence have I come upon anybody who was able to answer
his own prayers about himself, and about other people, with such
conviction, avidity, and enthusiasm as Mr. Trimblerigg. And why should
I complain? It made him a great power in the world, without my having
to lift a finger, or turn a hair, or do anything, in fact, except wink
an eye, or seem to.
The virtuous incentives of family life, though only provided on a
small scale, were not lacking for the development of Mr. Trimblerigg’s
character. He had three uncles, two aunts, a great-uncle and a
grandfather--all fairly contiguous, the family being of the indigenous
not of the migratory kind--besides a father, a mother and a sister,
with whom contact was continuous and unescapable. Even in their naming
the children had been linked for lovely and pleasant relationship in
after-life; for when the Trimblerigg first-born, whom its parents
confidently expected to be a son, turned into a daughter--adapting the
forechosen name to suit her sex, they called her Davidina; and when,
nearly two years later, our own Mr. Trimblerigg struggled out into the
world, nearly killing his mother in the process, the destined name
Jonathan was there waiting for him.
And so, very early in his career, Mr. Trimblerigg’s sister Davidina
became the whetstone of his virtues--its operation summed up in the
word ‘emulation.’ Nature would perhaps have brought it about in any
case, even if the parental plan had not inculcated and forced it home;
but when it became clear to Mr. and Mrs. Trimblerigg senior that no
more children were to be theirs, they conceived the idea of blending
the business with the moral instincts, and in the training of their two
offspring making virtue competitive.
No wonder then, that, as their moral sense dawned, the germ of mutual
suspicion and hatred grew lodged in their souls. This, however, did not
prevent them, when self-interest prompted, from being also allies, as
the following may show.
The parental idea of making virtue competitive had taken one of
its earlier forms--for economic reasons, I fancy--in the matter of
pocket-money; and the weekly penny was tendered not as a right nor even
as a reward for good average behaviour, but as a prize to be wrestled
for, gain by the one involving loss by the other--a device that had the
incidental advantage of halving the tax on the pocket which provided it.
The fact that Davidina won it far more frequently and easily than
he did, set Mr. Trimblerigg his first problem in goodness run as a
means to profit. He accordingly invited his sister to an arrangement
whereby, irrespective of conduct, they should go shares; and when
this accommodating olive-branch was scornfully rejected, he became so
offensively good for three weeks on end that Davidina, left penniless,
capitulated on terms, and, in order to get a remnant of her money’s
worth, bargained that they should be good--or at least each better than
the other--in alternate weeks, this being a more tolerable arrangement
to her careful soul than that brother Jonathan, with no effort at all,
ever secondary in virtue, should share equally the pennies which she
had earned.
For a while the plan worked well; Mr. Trimblerigg by calculated effort
bettered his sister in the alternate weeks, got the penny and shared it
grudgingly but honourably--while Davidina, remaining merely herself,
received it in the natural course when Jonathan reverted to his more
normal standard.
But there came a day when Mr. Trimblerigg had privily done certain
things about which his elders knew less than did Davidina, and so got
wrongfully the penny he had not earned. Davidina demanded it; on the
denial of her claim they fought, and between them the penny got lost.
The next week, though Davidina earned it, Mr. Trimblerigg claimed it,
arguing that as last week’s penny had been lost to him through her,
this week’s should be his. Davidina thought differently; and putting
the penny for safety in her mouth, in the resulting struggle by
accident swallowed it.
After that the alliance was over. Thenceforth Jonathan had a permanent
and lively incentive for becoming good; and in the competition that
ensued Davidina was decisively worsted. Goodness became for Mr.
Trimblerigg a matter of calculation, habit, resolute will, and in
the long series of defeats which followed, Davidina might, had she
chosen, have found satisfaction in the large part she played toward the
reshaping of her brother’s character.
So decisive was the change that it became apparent to the world, and
was reckoned as proof of that conversion to grace which was necessary
for full church-membership in the sect where he belonged. And so, at
an unusually early age, Jonathan was baptized into the congregation
of the Free United Evangelicals. That incident decided his career; he
became destined for the ministry.
Thus out of evil comes good.
* * * * *
When the matter was first decided Mr. Trimblerigg himself knew nothing
about it. It was the elders of the family, the parents, grandparents,
uncles and aunts--sitting together in conclave for the adjustment of
ways to narrow means, who foresaw the convenience of the call which in
due time came to him.
Mr. Trimblerigg himself was then making other plans of his own. A
sense of his abilities had begun to stir his mind to the prospects
of life. He had become conscious that a career was awaiting him--or,
to put it more accurately, several careers--of which he had only to
choose. One day, in a weak moment of expansiveness, when Davidina by
a histrionic show of sisterly sympathy had led him on, he confided
to her the sparkling alternatives which he had in mind. And she,
when her first admiration had become tempered with criticism, passed
word of them carefully on to the ears of his Uncle Jonah. Jonah, who
was anti-romantic by temperament, made it his duty to strip these
pretensions bare before the eyes of the assembled family--doing it no
doubt for his nephew’s good. ‘Jonathan is thinking,’ said he, ‘that
he would like to be Prime Minister; and well he might be if he had
the ability to be consistent in his principles. Seems also he’d like
to be President to the Free Church Conference; but for that he needs
to be spiritual and one that speaks nothing but the truth. Failing
that he’s for being Lord Chief Justice and Master of the Rolls; but
Jonathan hasn’t the judicial mind. And to be Field-Marshal rising
from the ranks (which is another flea he has in his bonnet) God
in His great mercy hasn’t given him sufficient inches to meet the
military requirements. You’ll do well, Jonathan; for you’re quick in
the turnover, and your convictions don’t trouble you; and you’ve a
wonderful courage for thinking yourself right when all the evidence
is against you. But what you’ll do if you’re wise is find a master
who’ll let you hide behind his back and be clever for him in the ways
that don’t show; one who’ll take over all the responsibility for your
mistakes, for the sake of all the times when you’ve guessed right.
Given he’s got the patience to put up with you, you’ll be worth it to
him, and a credit to your family. But there’s a deal of practice you’ve
to get before you can do the thing well. Don’t spread yourself.’
But Uncle Jonah, being an undertaker by trade, had narrow and confining
views; and the shadow of his daily occupation, entailing a too-frequent
wearing of black, caused him to set foot on life sombrely, especially
on life that was young. This also was said before the time when nephew
Jonathan had become conspicuously good.
With his higher aspirations thus blown upon, Mr. Trimblerigg, after
watering Davidina’s pet fern with strong tea which it did not like,
diverted his invention to more practical ends, and for a time wished
to be a conjurer, having read accounts of the wonders performed at the
Egyptian Hall, London, by Messrs. Maskelyne & Cooke. But as ill-luck
would have it, his first sight of conjuring came to him at a village
fair; and there, while others stared and were amazed, he with his sharp
eyes saw how everything was done, and found the entertainment dull. Now
had he only been interested and stirred to emulation thus early, I am
quite convinced that Mr. Trimblerigg could have become a conjurer
such as the world has never seen. If his parents could only have
afforded to take him to London, and to the Egyptian Hall, the world’s
history might have been different. It was not to be.
[Illustration: JONATHAN TRIMBLERIGG (aged 7) with his Mother & Sister
Davidina]
Mr. Trimblerigg’s attention was first attracted to the career his
elders designed for him, not so much by the habitual goodness with
which the rivalry of Davidina had imbued his character, as by his
observation of the sensation caused in his native village by the
missionizing efforts of a certain boy-preacher, then known to fame as
‘The Infant Samuel Samuel,’ whose call, beginning at his baptism in
that strange invocative reduplication of the family name imposed by his
godparents, went on till it suddenly passed in silence to an obscurity
from which the veil has never been lifted. What happened then nobody
knows, or nobody chooses to tell. But between the ages of seven and
fifteen, while sustained by the call, Samuel Samuel never saw a vacant
seat, or an uncrowded aisle, or had sitting under him a congregation
unrent by sobs in the hundreds of chapels to which the spirit bore him.
When Mr. Trimblerigg heard him, Samuel Samuel at the age of ten was
still in the zenith of his powers; and it has been credibly reported
that, in the mining villages which he passed through, publicans went
bankrupt and committed suicide because of him, and pit-ponies, their
ears robbed of the familiar expletives to which they had been trained,
no longer obeyed orders; and that alongside of these manifestations of
grace, the illegitimate birth-rates went up and struck a record; till,
six months later, things settled back and became the same; birth-rates
went down, pit-ponies obeyed a restored vocabulary, and ruined
publicans were vindicated in the prosperity of their successors.
But these things only happened after; and when Mr. Trimblerigg heard
the cry of the Infant Samuel Samuel, he discerned a kindred spirit,
and saw a way opening before his feet, under a light which thereafter
continued to shine. And so at the age of twelve the designs which
Mr. Trimblerigg’s elders had on him, and the designs which he had on
himself, coalesced and became one; and even Davidina, borne down by the
sense of the majority, had to accept the fact that her brother Jonathan
had received a call.
Thus early did the conversion of souls enter into the life and
calculations of Mr. Trimblerigg. A striking justification of his chosen
calling followed immediately, when, without in the least intending
it, he converted an almost lost soul in a single day--the soul of an
Uncle, James Hubback by name, the only uncle upon his mother’s side
left over from a large family--who while still clinging to the outward
respectability of a Free Church minister, had taken secretly to drink.
Mr. Trimblerigg had been born and brought up in a household where the
idea that spirits were anything to drink had never been allowed to
enter his head. He only knew of spirit as of something that would catch
fire and boil a kettle, or embrace death in a bottle and preserve it
from decay. These aspects of its beneficence he had gathered first in
the back kitchen of his own home, and secondly in the natural history
department of the County Museum, to which as a Sunday-school treat he
had been taken. Returning therefrom, he had been bitten for a short
while with a desire to catch, kill, and preserve frogs, bats, beetles,
snakes, and other low forms of existence, and make a museum of his
own--his originality at that time being mainly imitative. To this end
he clamoured to his mother to release his saved pennies which she
held in safe-keeping for him, in order that he might buy spirit for
collecting purposes; and so pestered her that at last she promised that
if for a beginning he could find an adder, he should have a bottle of
spirit to keep it in.
Close upon that his Uncle James arrived for a stay made sadly
indefinite by the low water in which he found himself. He still wore
his clerical garb but was without cure of souls: Bethel and he had
become separated, and his family in consequence was not pleased with
him. Nevertheless as a foretaste of reformation he wore a blue ribbon,
and was prevented thereby from letting himself be seen on licensed
premises; while a totally abstaining household, and a village with only
one inn which had been warned not to serve him, and no shop that sold
liquor, seemed to provide a safe environment for convalescence.
It is at this point that Mr. Trimblerigg steps in. One day, taking
down a book from the shelf in the little study, he discovered behind
it a small square bottle of spirits: he did not have to taste or smell
it--the label ‘old brandy’ was enough; and supposing in his innocence
the word ‘old’ to indicate that it had passed its best use, at once
his volatile mind was seized with the notion that here was a mother’s
surprise waiting for him, and that he had only to provide the adder for
the bottle and its contents to become his. And so with that calculating
larkishness which made him do audacious things that when done had to be
swallowed, he determined to give his mother a surprise in return.
Going off in search of his adder and failing to get it himself, he gave
another boy a penny for finding him a dead one. An hour later the adder
was inside the brandy bottle behind the books; and an hour after that
his Uncle James had achieved complete and lifelong conversion to total
abstinence.
The _dénouement_ presented itself to Mr. Trimblerigg at first with a
shock of disappointment in the form of smashed glass, and his dead
adder lying in a spent pool of brandy on the study floor; and only
gradually did it dawn upon him after a cautious survey of the domestic
situation that this was not as he had at first feared his mother’s
angry rejection of the surprise he had prepared for her: on the
contrary she was pleased with him. His uncle, he learned, was upstairs
lying down, without appetite either for tea or supper. Mr. Trimblerigg
heard him moaning in the night, and he came down to breakfast the next
day a changed character. Within a year he had secured reinstatement
in the ministry, and was become a shining light on the temperance
platform, telling with great fervour anecdotes which give hope. There
was, however, one story of a drunkard’s reformation which he never
told: perhaps because, on after-reflection, though he had accepted
their testimony against him, he could not really believe his eyes,
perhaps because there are certain experiences which remain too deep and
sacred and mysterious ever to be told.
But to Mr. Trimblerigg the glory of what he had done was in a while
made plain. More than ever it showed him destined for the ministry: it
also gave colour to his future ministrations, opening his mind in the
direction of a certain school of thought in which presently he became
an adept. ‘The Kingdom of Heaven is taken by tricks,’ became the
subconscious foundation of his belief; and when he entered the pulpit
at the age of twenty-one, he was by calculative instinct that curious
combination of the tipster, the thimblerigger, and the prophet, the
man of vision and the man of lies, which drew to itself the adoration
of one half and the detestation of the other half of the Free United
Evangelical Connection, eventually dividing that great body into two
unequal portions, and driving its soul into a limbo of spiritual
frustration and ineffectiveness till it found itself again under new
names.