ONCE again I have paid a rare visit to my tree to find many things changed since my last sojourn there.The bees are silent, for the honey-laden flowers of the sycamore are gone and in their place hang dainty two-fold keys.The poplar has lost its metallic shimmer, the chestnut its tall white candles; and the sound of the wind in the fully-leaved branches is like the sighing of the sea.
The martins' nests are finished, and one is occupied by a shrill-voiced brood; but for the most part the birds' parental cares are over, and the nestlings in bold flight no longer flutter on inefficient wings across the lawn with clamorous, open bill.The robins show promise of their ruddy vests, the slim young thrush is diligently practising maturer notes, and soon Maid June will have fled.
It is such a wonderful world that I cannot find it in my heart to sigh for fresh beauty amid these glories of the Lord on which Ilook, seeing men as trees walking, in my material impotence which awaits the final anointing.The marigolds with their orange suns, the lilies' white flame, the corncockle's blue crown of many flowers, the honeysuckle's horn of fragrance - I can paraphrase them, name, class, dissect them; and then, save for the purposes of human intercourse, I stand where I stood before, my world bounded by my capacity, the secret of colour and fragrance still kept.It is difficult to believe that the second lesson will not be the sequence of the first, and death prove a "feast of opening eyes" to all these wonders, instead of the heavy-lidded slumber to which we so often liken it."Earth to earth?" Yes, "dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return," but what of the rest? What of the folded grave clothes, and the Forty Days? If the next state be, as it well might, space of four dimensions, and the first veil which will lift for me be the material one, then the "other" world which is hidden from our grosser material organism will lie open, and declare still further to my widening eyes and unstopped ears the glory and purpose of the manifold garment of God.Knowledge will give place to understanding in that second chamber of the House of Wisdom and Love.Revelation is always measured by capacity: "Open thy mouth wide," and it shall be filled with a satisfaction that in itself is desire.
There is a child here, a happy quiet little creature holding gently to its two months of life.Sometimes they lay it beside me, I the more helpless of the two - perhaps the more ignorant - and equally dependent for the supply of my smallest need.I feel indecently large as I survey its minute perfections and the tiny balled fist lying in my great palm.The little creature fixes me with the wise wide stare of a soul in advance of its medium of expression; and I, gazing back at the mystery in those eyes, feel the thrill of contact between my worn and sustained self and the innocence of a little white child.It is wonderful to watch a woman's rapturous familiarity with these newcomers.A man's love has far more awe in it, and the passionate animal instinct of defence is wanting in him."A woman shall be saved through the child-bearing," said St Paul; not necessarily her own, but by participation in the great act of motherhood which is the crown and glory of her sex.She is the "prisoner of love," caught in a net of her own weaving; held fast by little hands which rule by impotence, pursued by feet the swifter for their faltering.
It seems incredible that this is what a woman will barter for the right to "live her own life" - surely the most empty of desires.
Man - VIR, woman - FEMINA, go to make up THE man - HOMO.There can be no comparison, no rivalry between them; they are the complement of each other, and a little child shall lead them.It is easy to understand that desire to shelter under the dear mantle of motherhood which has led to one of the abuses of modern Romanism.
I met an old peasant couple at Bornhofen who had tramped many weary miles to the famous shrine of Our Lady to plead for their only son.
They had a few pence saved for a candle, and afterwards when they told me their tale the old woman heaved a sigh of relief, "Es wird bald gut gehen: Die da, Sie versteht," and I saw her later paying a farewell visit to the great understanding Mother whom she could trust.Superstitious misapprehension if you will, but also the recognition of a divine principle.
