WIDENER
HN LIDY N








THE WISDOM OF THE BEASTS


THE WISDOM
OF THE BEASTS
BY
CHARLES AUGUSTUS STRONG

ΤΟΥΤ
BIEN OV
RIEN
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
1922


Preface
As I have been accused of an over-use of
technical terms in my serious books, and
of sacrificing the style to the idea—a grave
defect, I admit, in a philosopher—I have
endeavoured in these fables to say the same
thing in words that he who runs, or travels
by train or motor, may read. If, in addi-
tion, he should mark and inwardly digest,
I trust he will suffer no harm from my
stories, and, indeed, think no harm of
them. The Wisdom of the Beasts will not
seem a pretentious title, if the nature and
limitations of their wisdom, as here set
forth, be considered. Some of the beasts
turn out wiser than others, but so do some
men and even some philosophers. They


The Wisdom of the Beasts
are all God's creatures. And I shall be
satisfied if the reader, who may fancy the
views of some particular beast, or (if a
philosopher) perchance find himself here
depicted, sees his way, in the end, to
include the author too in that category.


Contents
PAGE
.
.
The TOP AND THE BEE .
THE BIRD AND THE Fish .
ACHILLES AND THE TORTOISE
The EAGLE AND THE BULLET
.
.
.
.
.
· The TRUTH-SEEKERS.
..
The BEE AND THE WASP.
The APE AND THE DOG
THE LAMB AND ITS MOTHER
The Mole and the Lark .
.
.
. 61
THE STOIC AND THE CHRISTIAN MARTYR.





Calumniari si quis autem voluerit
Quod et arbores loquantur, non tantum ferae :
Fictis jocari nos meminerit fabulis.


The Top and the Bee
THERE was once a top, with a round body
ending below in a point, but — unlike
most tops — a head on its shoulders.
And as it spun, an idea came into its
head. How do I know it is I that am
spinning, and not rather the world that is
whirling about me? And, as it was still
spinning very fast, it hummed this idea
aloud.
At the amazing suggestion, the choir
of heaven and furniture of earth stood
perfectly still, but only for an instant ;
for they had other things to do, and
could not afford the time for reasoning.
But a bee, who had been attracted by
the humming (and, indeed, had at first
thought the top a member of its own
species), but who was revolted when it
caught the sense underneath the sound,


The Wisdom of the Beasts
buzzed back the reply : Surely, much
spinning has turned your head ; do you, a
mere top-who, if larger than myself, are
still smaller than an apple, and a fortiori
smaller than the earth or than the planet
Jupiter-presume to think that all these
heavenly bodies are circling about you,
and that you are the centre of the universe ?
Think of Ptolemy, and of the difficulties
of his system, which upon this view
would be much increased ; think of the
discredit into which the very word
anthropocentric has fallen.
At this the top, which was a modest
toy, experienced a momentary feeling of
shame, and had to admit to itself that
there was something a little impudent
in its suggestion ; but, being also hard-
headed, and desirous of doing justice at
once to itself and to the rest of the world,
it replied to the bee : I see your point ;
but it seems to me, none the less, that
there is something in my suggestion ; and
perhaps we might make a compromise,
and say that each of us—you speak, of


The Top and the Bee
course, for the rest of the universe—is
moving with respect to the other ? That
is, from my point of view you are moving,
and from your point of view I am moving,
and, in short, our motion is reciprocal.
Reciprocity—that is all I contend for.
And as he hummed these words (his
humming was now distinctly less vociferous
than before), the top thought he had said
the last word about the matter.
In order the better to hear him, the
bee had drawn very close, and being
caught in a little eddy of air above him,
it now alighted on his shoulder. For a
moment its head was turned, and it said
to the top : I see that everything depends
on the point of view ; there is certainly
much to be said for your proposal-more-
over, it accords with the democratic spirit
of the times. One point of view is as
good as another.
But at this moment, recalling that it
had business, it flew up; and immediately
its head ceased to turn, and all the objects
about it ceased to whirl ; and it saw that


The Wisdom of the Beasts
what had been moving was simply the
top. And as it settled upon a flower, it
called back to the top : One point of view
is as good as another-if not better!
But the top had now begun to wobble ;
the world appeared to it to be behaving
very strangely, and the strictly reciprocal
character of their relations was not as
clear to it as before. It had wholly
ceased to hum, the relationist or any
other doctrine. In a moment more it
was lying motionless on the ground, re-
flecting sadly that, if all motion can be
looked at from two points of view, it is
the point of view of the universe that
prevails in the long run.





The Wisdom of the Beasts
hands of the great clock, which were
visible from the stream.
Now, ever since this young bird was
hatched, there had been a dead calm, with
not a breath of air stirring. But on the
morning in question, it noticed that some-
thing was changed in nature, it could
hardly tell what : sounds from the direc-
tion of the stream were veiled and scarcely
audible, while those from a barnyard in
the opposite direction were abnormally
distinct. But when it flew to the stream,
a stranger phenomenon still presented
itself. For it found that, as judged by
the hands of the clock, it arrived ahead
of time. And how this could possibly be,
was a problem that at once engaged its
attention ; for it was not merely observant,
but had an inquiring mind.
Seeing a little fish of about its own age,
with which it had made friends, it laid
the question before him. Why, said the
fish, don't you understand ? there must be
a current in the air, like what there is in
the water. It always takes me longer to
ΙΟ


The Bird and the Fish
swim up stream than to swim down.
What is a current ? asked the bird; I
never saw one. And how silly to speak
of swimming, which is an entirely different
thing from flying-much less of a feat, in
fact. In swimming, as I can clearly see,
you have the help of the water to buoy
you up; but to fly is to sustain oneself in
nothing at all !
Nothing at all ! answered the fish : do
you call air nothing at all? I like to
come to the surface every little while to
breathe it; otherwise I should not have
had the pleasure of making your acquaint-
ance. What it is you breathe, returned
the bird, I do not know-I have always
supposed it to be water. As for air, I
have never observed it, and it is against
my principles to admit what cannot be
observed.
Here the colloquy was interrupted by
the fish catching sight of a worm, which
diverted its thoughts from philosophy.
But the little bird, left to its meditations
(for it was now too engrossed by the
II


The Wisdom of the Beasts
question to think of feeding), evolved ere
long a theory which seemed to it alone
adequate to meet the facts. For he was
a gifted bird, and already expert at
scientific reasoning. If I fly, with only
the usual effort, in less than the usual
time, it can only be because the distance
between the steeple and the stream has
contracted over night. Objects are not
constant in their magnitude, but are
capable of contraction under certain condi-
tions. And, elated by this conclusion, he
reflected what a wonderful thing scientific
instruments are, which enable us to dis-
cover astonishing things about nature that
we should not otherwise have known.
Perceiving by the steeple clock that it
was now almost noon, he flew back to it
as straight as he could fly. And here
another surprising thing occurred. For
-measured by the clock-he now arrived
as much behind time as he had before
arrived ahead of it. And this set him
again a-thinking. Can it be, he said to
himself, that the field, which I thought
12


The Bird and the Fish
contracted this morning, had expanded
again by afternoon, and become as much
too large as it was before too small ?
Surely a doubtful hypothesis. And for a
time he was in great perplexity.
Ah! I have it, he cried out at last ;
what has changed is not the field, but the
clock. By flying away from a clock you
alter its time-keeping so that it loses, and
by flying towards it you alter its time-
keeping so that it gains. The time-keep-
ing of clocks is not a fixed and unalterable
thing, but depends on whether you move
or stand still. What is more, their varia-
tion can be calculated from the distance
and the speed at which you go. What a
wonderful thing is mathematics, which
enables you to calculate—and to prove,
with all the certainty of figures—how
natural objects will behave !
At this moment the young philosopher
caught sight of his mother, and rushed to
tell her of his remarkable experiences,
and his discoveries concerning the con-
traction of fields or the more probable
e
13


Achilles and the Tortoise
I





The Wisdom of the Beasts
similar covering for the spirit. Yet you
must have noticed my sensitiveness. The
worm can turn when trodden on: I
have not even that resource. A certain
natural slowness—not to be confused with
stupidity-exposes me to the gibes of the
superficial. It would have been a cruel
jest on Zeno's part to match me with
Achilles, if he had not forbidden that
mighty man to overtake me.
For two thousand years the interdict
held good. At least, in the opinion of
the learned world, no completely satis-
factory solution of Zeno's difficulties had
ever been found; and if they were in-
superable to philosophers, of course they
were insuperable to Achilles. I was
temporarily safe. But towards the end
of the last century a German mathe-
matician, who never had heard of Zeno
—and did not share, I fear, his kindly
interest in the tortoise-appears to have
solved the riddle, and broken down the
last barrier between me and my redoubt-
able adversary.
18


Achilles and the Tortoise
How I long, under these circumstances,
for a modern Zeno, you can perhaps imag-
ine. I looked into the pages of a French
philosopher of repute, but he said there
had never been any real difficulty, and
that Achilles had only to walk straight
forward (I wonder why he didn't do
it, then ?) in order to reach me. His
English critic—the brilliant mathematico-
logician you wot of—says the difficulties
were real, but that the German has solved
them. This may be ; but what grieves
me is that he (the critic) had such a
splendid chance to rehabilitate me-nay,
to turn the tables finally on Achilles in
my favour-and missed it. I must tell -
you the story, for it is interesting.
Tristram Shandy, he says, took a year
to write the history of the first two days
of his life : but if he had persevered-
and had had eternity to do it in-no part
of his life would have remained unwritten.
(This explains, thought I as I read, how
the very wicked can expiate their sins in
hell, if they have eternity to do it in.)
19


The Wisdom of the Beasts
for all deeper inquiries. So successful a
runner, replied Achilles with exquisite
courtesy, has no need to excuse himself;
it is better to be safe and sound practically
than safe and sound mathematically. At
least, it was in that spirit that I fought at
Troy.


The Eagle and the Bullet
23





The Eagle and the Bullet
An eagle sat on a mountain - crag, and
marvelled at the din and the smoke of
battle that rose from the valley below.
I am thought a cruel bird, it said, though
I care for my young, and kill only in order
to feed them ; but what lust of carnage and
fierce energy of destruction animate these
men! Will the turmoil never cease ? for
I fear for my eaglets.
The words were hardly out of its
mouth, when a spent bullet, sped upward
by some distant musket, described a ġrace-
ful curve and fell on the rock at its feet.
For a moment the bullet, being spent, was
too exhausted for utterance; but, having
recovered its breath, it said to the eagle :
A thousand pardons ! I meant no harm
to you, still less to your little brood ; an
irresistible force impelled me, and I had
25


The Wisdom of the Beasts
to take the line and go to the point which
it determined.
I accept your apology, replied the eagle
majestically, at least as concerns your hav-
ing been driven ; but this business of the
line and the point needs looking into. A
wide experience of Aights, and something
piercing in my vision, have at last led me
to the conclusion (though the matter was
long in doubt in my mind) that no such
things as lines and points exist. They are
creatures of the imagination, necessary,
indeed, to the description of flying, but
not to be taken as existent in rerum natura.
I don't know, returned the bullet,
whether you consider me as existing in
rerum natura, for you are a lively bird,
and may not have room for the inanimate
in your scheme of things ; but-speaking
with a due sense of the enormous gap
between us—I must honestly say that my
very limited experiences, or rather dumb
feelings, suggest an opposite conclusion.
It seems to me that I move in lines and
stop at points.
26.


The Eagle and the Bullet
I used to be of that opinion myself,
rejoined the eagle grandly; indeed, in
association with a brother eagle of great
intellectual power, I worked out a philo-
sophy which resolved time into instants
and space into points. Those were all
that we needed for our geometrical
reckonings-you know, in our flying we
prefer to follow the hypotenuse—but I
afterwards became convinced that we had
thereby knocked the bottom out of things.
For no extension was left us in which to
fly, and no time in which to do it.
A hard case for an eagle, remarked the
bullet, not to have time and space to fly
in. But I thought infinity (I know a little
about it, being myself pure mind-dust)
solved the problem : that you could get
from point to point in instants if you had
enough of them.
Alas, no! answered the eagle : instants
will not do you have got to have dura-
tions. What sort of things are those ?
said the bullet ; for I have never ex-
perienced, I mean felt, them. From the
27


The Truth-Seekers
What is truth ? said jesting Pilate-I
mean in matters of philosophy and religion.
We have looked into the question at
Rome, in our higher circles, and I am
assured that the young priests in the
temples have lost faith in the old deities,
that an haruspex grins when he meets an
haruspex, and that the office of pontifex
maximus is obtained by political influence
if not by bribery. And so—to speak for
the moment only of religion-I should say
that truth might be defined as the relation'
of an idea to your interests.
You must consider the very varied
nature of interests, said his interlocutor,
an old Jew of much business experience.
In my country we take a most serious view
of religion. Our ancestral cult teaches
33


The Wisdom of the Beasts
that prosperity is bound up very closely
'with behaviour; and I have myself found
that strict observance of engagements and
minute care in weighing are necessary to
business success. Our priests are at the
same time our governors ; and anything
that tended to undermine their authority
would be subversive of the State. So that,
frankly, if the Hebrew religion were not
in existence, it would be necessary to
invent it.
We too, said a young Greek of Alex-
andria, a rhetorician and clever manipu-
lator of words, have examined the nature
of truth in our schools, and it may interest
you to hear the conclusions to which we
have come. We think that truth is simply
· what you believe. Thus the Egyptian
peasant believes that the sun is a fiery
monster, and that is therefore truth for
him. Most people believe that the earth
is flat, and surrounded on all sides by an
ocean, and that is accordingly truth for
them. You and I, who know that the
earth is round, and that the sun is simply a
34


The Truth-Seekers
ball of luminous matter revolving about it
(for we may exclude the notion of Aris-
tarchus, that it is the earth that revolves
about the sun), cannot prove these highly
probable opinions, and therefore truth is,
in our case too, what we believe,
But what, in that case, interposed
Pilate, is the sense of asking whether a'
belief is true? I know the question will
sound ingenuous, but I am not used to these
hair-splitting discussions.
With the cares of empire on your
shoulders, answered the Greek, you natur-
ally have other things to think of. But
your query, he went on with the greatest
Auency, admits of a perfectly simple
answer. Truth, so far as yet attained,
means what we believe now, but perfect
truth means what we will believe in future.
You can see for yourself that this must be
so, since any other kind of truth would
not be attainable. What if we should
be permanently deceived ? objected Pilate.
We should not know that we were de-
ceived, returned the Greek; and not to
35


The Wisdom of the Beasts
know that you are deceived is—for us to
possess the truth.
This is not the kind of truth I ask for,
observed Pilate, in the trials (like the one
just ended) I am occasionally obliged to
hold. When I bid a witness speak the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but
the truth, I mean by the word conformity
'to fact.
Your honour is a great proconsul, but
doubtless not versed in these matters, said
the rhetorician ; for no witness can testify
'to anything but what he believes to be con-
formable to fact. You cannot resurrect the
past itself.
Thank heaven not, replied Pilate. I
have had enough of governing and trials,
and particularly of this last.
Let me put a case to you, Greekling,
said the wily Jew. Suppose we should
differ as to the number of windows in the
next room, whether it be three or four.
Now truth, as you yourself allow, implies
conformity to fact. I say there are three
windows; you say there are four. Couldn't
36


The Bee and the Wasp





The Bee and the Wasp
Time is honey, said the little busy bee.
And from that I draw the consequences,
primo, that there was no time before there
was honey, and that, therefore, the world
came into existence with the race of bees ;
secundo, that the future must be unadulter-
atedly sweet, since otherwise that portion
of time would not be honey. Indeed, the
present is sweet—who has not felt its
sweetness ? I shall call this the saccharine
philosophy; since it is easier to conceive
an idea distinctly if you have a name.
Nonsense, cried a wasp : you are a
creature with a sting! Was existence sweet
to the man who tried the other day to rob
your hive? Did he not rub his cheeks and
roar with pain as you plied him with your
delicate instrument ? Moreover, this honey
of yours—which you esteem sweet, but
41


The Wisdom of the Beasts
many good judges consider mawkish-is
really made up of a multitude of in-
gredients, some of which are deadly
poisons. The hemlock that caused the
death of Socrates is among the flowers on
which you feed. Yet you gloss over these
sinister facts, and pretend that all is sweet-
ness ! A really candid insect would recog-
nise that some things are sweet and others
bitter.
I am not the only insect with a sting,
replied the bee. But since I have one, I
admit that my doctrine needs rectification;
indeed, I have always been dimly aware
that there was another side to things.
Now-on reflection—I cannot give up
my view that time is honey : for my
whole experience confirms it. May it not
be that the other principle, the root of
bitterness, is what we call space ? Time
and space would thus co-operate to form
the whole of things, crossing each other,
as it were, at right angles; but time
would be good, space bad-time synthetic,
space analytic-time real, space imaginary.
42


The Bee and the Wasp
We should thus have a sort of Manichaean
philosophy, with contradiction lodged at
the heart of things.
Why you should wish to put contra-
diction in so central a place I cannot under-
stand, said the wasp, unless because you
find it in your philosophy; but that has
usually been considered a reason for chang-
ing one's philosophy. I might build a
philosophy upon contradiction ; but then,
I am a part of the principle which denies.
Let us review your system critically. The
starting-point of your thought is, I think,
honey. I mean, though you say time is
honey, yet, if you were obliged to choose
between the two, it is honey, not time, you
would prefer.
Pardon me, said the bee ; if the Deity
were to offer me honey in one hand, and
the pursuit of honey in the other, I should
choose the latter. Always providing, it
added after a moment, I could attain
enough of it for my daily sustenance.
So that honey, retorted the wasp, is
what you are after, but you are satisfied
43


The Wisdom of the Beasts
with an amount of it that precludes in-
digestion. Now, if it takes time to gather
honey, it takes space to store it : what are
those hexagonal cells, which you construct
so cleverly, but deployments in space ?
And the more the honey fills them, the
more you exult and buzz ; so that even
you recognise that space enters into its
essence. The undervaluing of space seems
to me a relic of the ancient prejudice
against matter, and quite out of place in a
saccharine philosophy; for honey, after all,
is matter.
Impious suggestion ! cried the bee ; I
will no longer discuss things with you.
For honey—so far from being matter—is
the goal of endeavour, the summum bonum,
the reward of patient industry ; it has an
ethical quality which evaporates when you
spread it out mentally in space. In its
deepest essence, honey is life. I cannot
live without honey : whence it follows, by
inexorable logic, that honey and life are
the same thing. And that is why I attri-
bute so much importance to time in my
44


The Bee and the Wasp
philosophy. It is not simply that time is
honey (which has a certain utilitarian
sound), but that honey is life ; so that to
make the most of time is to make the most
of life, which is to make the most of honey.
But even you, I think, said the bee to the
wasp, are not without a similar means of
subsistence ?
Saying which, he flew off into space, in
search of saccharine matter. But the wasp,
as he watched him go, muttered : What
narrowness! If I had to choose between
sipping honey and the use of my sting, I
verily believe I should choose the latter.


The Ape and the Dog





The Ape and the Dog
he only observed : It appears that appear-
ances are deceptive.
A poor dog, who lived tied up in
the laboratory, chanced to overhear this
remark, and, pricking up his ears, he
addressed the ape with the words : In
the dog's life, which I lead, I have
occasionally met with deception, but what
precisely do you mean by appearances ?
I, who live on solid ground, and need
substantial food and drink for my nourish-
ment, am unfamiliar with the leafy,
shadowy concepts of you who dwell in
trees (for I think, when at home, you
are arboreal in your habits ?), and should
be obliged to you for an explanation.
My good fellow, said the kindly ape,
with the greatest willingness. But have
you never yourself been taken in, not by
man, but by nature ?
You recall to me, returned the dog,
one of the bitterest experiences of my
life. Infandum . .. As I was once
crossing a stream-but you know the story,
so why should I repeat it to you? If
51


The Wisdom of the Beasts
you wished to do me a great favour, you
would explain the occurrence to me, for
I have never properly understood it—the
whole thing was so sudden. .
Why, said the ape, you took the shadow
for the substance, the appearance for the
thing itself. And in this you were only
following, with your dog-like docility, in
the footsteps of man, who has also not
learned on all occasions to distinguish them.
I merely used my eyes, rejoined the
dog. What are eyes for, if not to show
you a thing as it is ? Would you have
them show it to you as it isn't ? I
wouldn't forbid them to show it to you
as it isn't, answered the ape, if nature
made them, and by processes such as are
described in the book, the good book, I
have lately been reading. I fear, my
honest dog, your conceptions are just a
little behind the times, and that you have
never heard of evolution.
I find it so hard, said the dog, not to
believe my eyes. Your eyes are good
enough, answered the ape, for such things
52


The Ape and the Dog
as eyes were meant for, but you have a
better sense still, if I am not misinformed
-I refer to your flair.
Heavens ! cried the dog : why didn't
I think, when I saw the image in the
brook, to use my flair?
Good, said the ape : image was the
mot juste, and you are in a fair way, if you
keep on in this line, to overcome your
disabilities of thought.
But what are we lingering here for ?
it went on, looking about the room. I
wish I knew, answered the dog, and I
have my fears, for I have sometimes
known men to be cruel. (Not so cruel
as nature, it is true, and I still prefer to
live with them.) Some are cruel for
nothing or for the pleasure of it, and
some for good ends, and because they
have to be : for instance, when I have
done wrong, and know it, and my master
castigates me. Under these circumstances
I keep my tail between my legs, and
consider that I am showing a proper
spirit.
53


The Wisdom of the Beasts
I wish I could show a proper spirit,
said the ape, but the thought of cruelty
makes me tremble. Steady, steady ! cried
the dog ; let us hope that whatever is
done will be for the good of sentient
creatures. Then, seeing that the ape had
recovered his equanimity, and, indeed,
was preparing to put a good face on the
matter, he exclaimed cheerily : Ah, now
you are behaving like a man!


The Lamb and its Mother


The Lamb and its Mother
THERE was a sheep that had brought
forth a lamb, more brilliant and dis-
criminating than herself; at least, the
lamb showed a gift for abstract inquiries,
though it did not drive very well at
practice. This, naturally, gave great
concern to the old sheep, and she tried
by various artifices to direct her child's
footsteps in what she conceived to be the
right channel.
But she was always thwarted by the
lamb's sceptical disposition--for it would
never regard anything as quite sure—and
by a principle, which the lamb early
imbibed, that, after all, it was all One.
For example, the little creature showed
a tendency in its feeding to confuse the
harmful with the nutritious, and to eat
weeds and poisonous herbs with the same.


The Lamb and its Mother
• The old sheep, wellnigh out of patience
with a philosophy that transcended her
own humdrum ideas, could only repeat,
with wearisome insistence : Don't eat
weeds—don't confuse the noxious with
the edible—don't think that differences
make no difference. But the lamb replied,
with precocious sapience: These are nega-
tions, and my philosophy is designed to
avoid needless negations ; however, since
negation is at bottom the same thing as
affirmation, it makes no difference whether
you assert or deny ; and, whichever you
do, it is all One.
At this the old sheep was at last ex-
asperated beyond all measure, and broke
out angrily : This philosophy of unity
is the most tiresome and monotonous
thing I ever heard of; why, it is against
common sense. But, even as she said the
words, she realised how far her qualifica-
tions for philosophy came short of her
daughter's, and she brought them out
with a certain sheepishness.
Common sense ! exclaimed the lamb,
59





The Mole and the Lark
This is a very dark world, said a mole.
I cannot think so, answered a lark who
had seen him burrowing ; a moment ago
I was singing songs at heaven's gate, and
I assure you they expressed my true feel-
ing about existence.
Heavens ! said the mole; I was not
talking about the ratio between the de-
lights and the sorrows of living, which
some people find so depressing. I enjoy
my subterranean life as much as you do
your celestial one, and I have no wish to
exchange my appetising labours for the
repose of the grave. What I meant was
that the world is dark in a metaphysical
sense. I was forcibly reminded of it the
other day when my hole caved in, and a
storm of atoms, very like that described
by Lucretius, threatened to bury me.
63


The Mole and the Lark
nocturnal view of existence-nay, it gives
me the nightmare merely to think of it.
Darling creature, replied the mole, I
love to hear you sing—indeed, I have
often wished that I had your voice—but,
really, you shouldn't venture to discuss
philosophy. The depths of existence are
not to be sounded by touching upper C.
In very truth, you do live in a storm of
atoms—or, not to be behind the latest
advance of science, of electrons—and the
air you breathe and the atmosphere in
which you float are composed of nothing
else. Now, atoms and electrons are dark
things—they are 'out of sight, and not
even the physicists understand about
them. That is what I meant by the
world being dark ; and, in saying it, I
have the whole of natural science to back
me.
So that Mozart, cried the lark, whom
I taught to sing, and who in return gave
me (or was it his spirit ?) some of my
loveliest melodies, lived in the world of
darkness you describe, and his finger-
65


The Wisdom of the Beasts
exercises and dear little pen-strokes were
but eddies in the storm, mere scurryings of
atoms? You make me wish I were dead
-a wish I have never felt before.
It is possible, answered the mole, that
something in my underground mode of
life, or perhaps a defect of my organism
(for it is only your voice, your charming
voice, I hear), hides from me an aspect of
things which it would be in the interests
of my philosophy to consider. What you
say about Mozart touches me, for I am
very sensitive (though you might not
think it) to music. Lucretius, to whom
I am accustomed to look for wisdom,
omits, I think, to mention the music of
the spheres, and that is my sole ground
for suspecting him of incompleteness.
You are an honest mole, said the lark,
as well as a music-loving one ; and now,
to reward you for your artistic conscience,
I will tell you a great secret. Oh, it is
hidden from moles, unless they be music-
loving ones! The world is not really dark
at all, but full to overflowing of light. And
66





The Stoic and
the Christian Martyr
e
A Stoic sat beside an early Christian who
had been his friend, and who, his trial
ended, had been allowed a brief airing.
My dear friend, said he, I hear that you
have been condemned to be burnt at the
stake ; and I find it hard to express my
horror, and the deep compassion which
your position inspires in me. We have
often discussed philosophy together : how
comes it that you have accepted this
ruinous superstition, and are prepared to
maintain it at the cost of your life?
We reached no end in our discussions,
answered the other, and I felt a need in
me that no earthly philosophy could fill.
Truth, to be really truth, must satisfy the
heart's desire. You were always gentle
71


W
The Stoic and the Christian Martyr
replied the Stoic, that penetrates in order
to bring peace and comfort to a distracted
soul. To such hardness the soul should be
insensible.
But can the end be reached ? objected
the Christian-can relief and healing be
really brought ?
That is a matter of faith, said the
Stoic.
This intellectual faith, I fear, returned
his friend, is lacking to me. For know-
ledge of the truth I must lean on another.
That is my faith. But in docility I see
that we are alike.
After a few moments of meditation,
the Stoic turned to the Christian and said:
But how can you feel sure of attaining the
truth by this path-are you not sometimes
troubled by doubts ?
To confess the truth, answered the
Christian, I am. I alternate between two
states, in one of which I experience con-
viction and a mystic sense of joy, and in
the other the disquieting suspicion that the
world may not be, after all, as I dream it.
73


The Wisdom of the Beasts
ministers ; the subtle adjustment of un-
worldly ideals to worldly ends, the perse-
cutions of those of another way of thinking
-nay, the wars, and the corruptions with-
out end, that are only too likely to follow.
You draw a dreadful picture, replied
the Christian ; but it is only a possibility,
and things may turn out differently. We
must leave the future to God.
There is a sense, said the Stoic, in
which I agree with you.
At this moment the Stoic and the
Christian, who had been sitting on the
sea-shore, were swept away by a great
wave, and found themselves, ex improviso,
on the edge of eternity. We must swim
for our lives, cried the Christian. Heaven
helps those who help themselves.
I fear it helps no one else, replied the
Stoic. That is probably what your prophet
meant when he said that the kingdom of
heaven is within you.
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