In a snug home in a suburb of New York City dwells "Dodd" Weaver with
his faithful and devoted wife. They have one child, a boy, named
Charles Bright. Their home is happy and full of the sunlight of love.
"Dodd" is devoted to his profession, and serves it faithfully. He has
a marked talent in his calling, and is succeeding well. He may never
become famous, but what is fame? He is earning an honest and excellent
living, and that is much for one with his start in life.
He looks over the path he has come with thankfulness as well as with
horror. He hopes, too, that when his own son shall come to go by the
highway of life, he may be able to take him by the hand and lead him
along the dangerous places that he found along the road, or, at least,
to point out the pitfalls for the child, and so save him from the evil
that so sorely, beset himself.
But every day, the thing that now looms up through the life of this now
busy man is the personal character and influence of his old teacher,
Mr. Bright. This never leaves him nor forsakes him. It is like an
anchor to his soul. It saved him from total wreck in his voyage of
life. It held him from ruin when the waves and billows swept over him.
Why should he not revere such a source of help; such an everlasting
tower of strength?
But his memory of the machine brings no such consolation or help. Why
should it? Answer, if you can, you who have faith in the mill itself,
or whose business it is to make it grind.
As "Dodd" touches his brush to a bit of ruddy color on the pallet at
his side and tinges the cheeks of a beautiful face that smiles from the
easel before him, I draw the curtain that shuts him out of your sight
and mine, beloved, and that closes him into the sacred radiance of his
own happy home. Let us leave him there within the veil, within the
veil.
ADDENDA
[For School Teachers Only.]
As I vexed no one with a preface at the beginning of this story, I
allow myself the privilege of a few reflections at its close.
If the Evolution of "Dodd" has seemed slow, or if it has appeared,
sometimes, as if the life, whose growth I have traced, began on a very
low plane and progressed almost imperceptibly, let it be remembered
that this is the ordinary course of nature. It is the way of the
world. From the primordial germ to the soul of a man is a long, long
distance; and often and often, in the upward march of life, the path
seems to turn upon itself and go backward. It is even so in the life
of every one who eventually reaches the goal. The way to final victory
is marked by a succession of advances, battles, and retreats. This
also is ordained.
The physical body of man, from the time of its inception till the close
of its career, passes through all the varied stages of animal life--the
germ, the cell, and the changes that these are subject to in animal
existence--that is, being the highest form of material life, man bears,
in his own body, marks of all previous conditions. Even so, in his
spiritual body, each individual exemplifies "The total world since life
began," and every soul must span the space from the first man, Adam, to
the quickened spirit of a son of God. People whose business it is to
develop human souls should remember that.
Again: How to help weak and tempted humanity so as to build it up, to
make it strong and able to resist temptation, is a problem that has
never yet been fully solved. Whether it is better to hold up an awful
example before the gaze of the suffering ones, and to relate to them
the certainty of a like conclusion to their own career if a like course
of life is persisted in; whether it is better to point out the success
that some tempted and tortured men have reached, by devious ways that
led through flame and darkness, and from which the victims have escaped
only as by fire, like brands plucked from the burning,--which of these
ways is the better, heaven only knows and has never revealed.
It is well enough, though, to remember that the Master was tempted in
all points, like as we are, and that it is said of the saints in glory
that they came to their reward through great tribulation.
There can be no greater tribulation than for one to be born with a
nature that is intrinsically false, fickle, passionate, impulsive--in a
word, such a nature as "Dodd" naturally possessed--a nature far away
from the line of truth and right; a nature such as multitudes of boys
are born with in this wide, wide world of ours. To guide safely into
the port of rest souls thus weighted down with depravity is a task for
gods and men to compass--if they can. The chances of wreck are many
fold to one; but now and then the harbor is made, thank God!
It has seemed best to me to tell the tale of one such voyage of life.
There is no denying that the journey was a perilous one, such a one as
would probably wreck ninety-nine out of one hundred crafts attempting
it; yet, for all of that, there is joy over the one that comes through.
I am aware that "Dodd" Weaver has had more chances than any one person
ought ever reasonably to expect. But Providence is sometimes bountiful
in opportunities, even to prodigality. "Dodd" doubtless had more
chances than he ought to have had, in the strict line of justice; but
we must all plead guilty to the same charge, in a greater or less
degree. It is likely, however, that no more opportunities have come to
any of us than were necessary to bring us safely to our journey's
close. "There is a divinity that shapes our ends."
I am glad "Dodd" Weaver had as many chances as he had. I am glad he
didn't need any more of the same sort, for they might not have been
forthcoming. There is such a thing as being too late.
My hope for you, beloved, is that you, too, may have chances, and that
you may take them while you can. I would that you might reach the goal
of success in life by a shorter route than "Dodd" had to take; but if
not, then may you come by the way he trod. The road is not unused, you
will not be alone in your travels.
One last word regarding the public school, for whose sake all this has
been set down:
In the evolution of character, in these last days, this institution has
come to be a most important factor. To it has been assigned a task
equal to, if not exceeding that of any other agency that has to deal
with human nature. It is more important than can be set forth that it
do its work well. It is not so doing now, however, to nearly the
extent of which it is capable. Too much it has become a mere machine,
a mill for grinding out graduates. As such it is unworthy its high
estate. As such it now exists, in multitudes of cases. As such it
should no longer be tolerated. From such a condition it must be
redeemed.
The system has largely lost sight of the grandest thing in all the
world, namely, the individual soul. It addresses itself to humanity
collectively, as a herd. In this it makes a fatal mistake, one that
must be corrected, and that speedily.
And for you, teachers, you who have the destinies of these schools in
your hands, keep your eyes and ears open, and your souls alive to the
possibilities of your profession. Let no machine nor method crush out
your own individuality, and suffer no power to induce, or to force you
to make a business of turning a crank that runs a mill whose office it
is to grind humanity to one common form, each individual like every
other, interchangeable like the parts of a government musket!
Understand, first, last, and all the time, that characters cannot be
manufactured like pins, by the million, and all alike; neither can
salvation be handled in job lots. It is also true that wholesaling
education can never be made a success.
Because, personal character is all there is in this world that amounts
to anything in the final resolution of things. It is not money, nor
governments, nor machines, that are of value in the last analysis. It
is character! It is individuality! It is men!
To secure these things this old world turns over once in twenty-four
hours, and swings around the sun in yearly revolution. For these,
tides ebb and flow, the land brings forth, and the clouds float in the
sky. To these all forces are but servants. For these Christ died.
And like begets like, in the public schools as elsewhere. It is
character in the teacher that begets character in the pupil. The
machine makes after its own kind also, and both it and its products can
be measured with a line.
The soul cannot be measured with a line.
So the ultimatum is personality, individuality, and character, in every
teacher and pupil in the public schools, and freedom of each to develop
in his own way, and not after a pattern made and prepared by a pattern
maker.
If the public school live long, its friends must take these items into
account and act on them. It is its only salvation.
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Evolution of Dodd, by William Hawley Smith