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Then, all at once, at the end of the indeed caused her to be unusually green vista, cantering in leisurely fash- wakeful on the previous night. Tiltion down the path which bisected their ing her hat over her eyes and pillowing own narrow alley, they saw three roe her head on her arms, she soon fell deer pass noiselessly. The sunlight asleep, waking after an hour or so, fell directly on their russet flanks and with a start, to find herself alone. slender limbs, on the graceful heads, She got up quickly, calling two or so proudly poised.
three times in alarm; then, fearful of "Oh, how pretty!" cried Tamsine, un- attracting the attention of some wander her breath, and clapping her hands dering keeper, she sat down to wait softly with delight.
for David's return. David was already flying swiftly and But it was long before he came, and noiselessly towards the juncture of the then, though he was heated and expaths, but when he had reached it the hausted, he refused to give any account little creatures were out of sight. of his doings.
“Roe deer," he said, retracing his "I couldn't sleep, and so I thought steps. “I fancy there's a-many here- I'd just roam about a bit," was all he abouts."
would say in reply to her questions. “Yes, they do say there's lots of wild "Did you go to look after the little deer in these woodsi," returned deer?” she asked after a pause. Tamsine, “but I've never seen any "I didn't see them,” he answered unbefore. Aren't they pretty little willingly; "but I found the stream things?-not half the size of them I where they do come to drink." used to see in the Lard's park near He was unusually taciturn during Branston."
the whole of that afternoon, though "These be different altogether,” re- he did not again attempt to move from joined David. "They can run, just Tamsine's side. For once it was she about. I should think the little buck who set herself to amuse him instead if he were set goin' 'ud run so fast as a of hearkening to his talk, and though bare."
he appeared to listen, and laughed now "Well now, here we be in the very and then at what she said, Tamsine middle of the wood," said Tamsine.
vaguely conscious that his "Here's shade
yeyou what thoughts were busy with other things. wanted shade. Let's go to the end of On the following day, however, Dathis walk and sit down under one of vid seemed his own self again, and the oaks, shall us?"
passed his time in a manner that was "Yes, that wouldn't be a bad notion," entirely satisfactory to his wife, for he agreed.
he not only permitted her to attend unThey ascended the mossy track, and rebuked to household duties which imhaving selected a resting place which peratively needed her personal superwas not only shady and retired, but vision, but worked himself with most swept every now and then by a fitful praiseworthy zeal and industry. breeze, they flung themselves down on It was hat evening, however, that the soft ground.
he startled her by announcing suddenly "I'm going to doze a bit,” announced that he wanted to have a dog of his David after å pause.
Own. "Well, perhaps I'll do the same," re- "A dog! What for? You'd never joined she.
want to do away wi' dear old Carlo?" Her qualms of conscience and vague rejoined Tamsine hastily; "an' Towanxiety about David's proclivities had zer's as much yours as Cornick's."
“They're both ours, or rather yours," long and slender of limb, rough of said he. "I want a dog o' my own. coat, deep of chest, the embodiment of I'll get one what'll agree wi' Carlo, strength and activity. an' 'twill be jist so well for us to get a “Mercy me! What a great beast!" bit used to the new one afore the old she exclaimed. “Why, 'tis so big as a one dies.
He's bound to die o' old age calf, very near. What is it, David? afore so very long."
I've never seen a dog like it." “That's true. Well, of course, if ' 'Tis a hound," rejoined he. you've a fancy for a dog I'm content "Nay, now you're laughing at me! I ye should bave one," said she. “'Twas know quite well what hounds are like nice o' you to tell me you could ha' -I've a-see'd the gentry hunting often got one wi’out sayin' anything about enough."
"There's different kinds o' hounds," “I could,” he agreed, “but I do al- said David. "Foxhounds and bloodways like to tell 'ee things—when I hounds, an' otterhounds an' deercan," be added slowly.
hounds." Tamsine was somewhat taken aback "Which is this one, then?" when a few days afterwards the new "Oh, this? This is a deerhound," redog appeared-a beautiful creature, turned David carelessly. The Times.
(To be continued.)
CHANCE AND CHANGE.
To search for hidden unities in the than do those for whom social reform literature of an age is often to dis- is a profession. tort facts in the interest of theory. But this I think is scarcely the most This is especially true in the case of satisfactory way of putting the matcontemporary literature. But there ter. For it leaves out of account the may come a point-and I think the circumstance that these authors do, in most notable literature of the last six fact, differ in a very important way, months marks such a point-when alike from the scientist and the busy certain salient facts emerge so vio- practical man; and it does not suffilently and so repeatedly from the writ- ciently reveal the common cause which ten page that no one but the blindest is working upon them all. The same can ignore or deny them. If one truth may perhaps be expressed in takes the last six books by authors who wider and more significant terms by are fairly representative of contempo saying that the characteristic literature rary English literature-E. M. Forster, of to-day is the literature of change. Arnold Bennett, H. G. Wells, Gran- The most vigorous writers are generville Barker, Bernard Shaw, and John ally those who respond most to their Galsworthy—there is to be found one environment, in the sense that to such truth about them so obvious that it men everything must be full of suggeshas been remarked by dozens of re tion, interesting, and matter for the inviewers. It is that they are concerned terpretative mind; though the greatest with the same social problems as those of all are those who nourish themselves which fall under the science of so- at all the sources of inspiration, in the ciology; that they advocate, criticize, or past and the present, in the seen and imply reforms scarcely less directly the unseen. The latter are in con
sequence not so purely representative in the outward and inward order of of their own special time as are those the world has affected novelists we vigorous, active minds which fill a may turn to Mr. Arnold Bennett, Mr. secondary place in the world's litera- Wells, or Mr. E. M. Forster. The first ture, but bulk largest to their contem- of these has written two' really disporaries. Shakespeare is not so rep- tinguished novels, his recent Clayhanger resentative of the Elizabethans as is and his earlier Old Wives' Tales. Each Marlowe or Chapman. Probably if a of these stories shows us the progresgreater number of Greek plays sur- sion of the English world from the genvived we should find that Sophocles is eration of our grandfathers to our own less characteristically Athenian than generation; it shows this change creepEuripides. And in the same way Mr. ing upon us at an accelerated pace, Joseph Conrad is not so representative catching the older inhabitants of the contemporary world as is Mr. awares, a visible change in bricks and Bernard Shaw or Mr. Wells. But it is mortar, in widening streets, in enin men of the latter type that we shall larged factories, in the introduction of find the differential qualities of an trams which in due course became epoch, the qualities which to some ex- electric trams; and a change no less tent appear in the greatest, which ap- decisive in customs and habits, the pear far more abundantly in those big- older folk marvelling at the newgest in contemporary estimation, which fangled independence of the young; the in any case mark the trend of thought whole being nothing less than a revoand the peculiar contribution of the lution which has descended with the time. It is the literature produced by sure but imperceptible advance of a these men to-day which is most pro- glacier, so that within living memory foundly impressed by what may be the face and character of England have called the spirit of change.
been altered. The briefest consideration of contem- And an exactly similar idea has capporary literature is sufficient to prove tured the imagination of Mr. Wells. how powerfully these minds have been In The Nero Machiavelli, as in Tono moulded, either by observing this fact Bungay and other books, he tells the of change or contemplating its possi- story of the rapidly evolving world in bility. The fact itself may perhaps which his heroes have grown up; of best be illustrated by the case of Mr. the ever-spreading suburbs 'stretching Edmund Gosse and the story told in out their tentacles north and south and his memorable book, Father and Son. east and west, of the mushroom houses As a piece of biography alone that which arose without order or system, book must stand high, for the fine of the changing system of education, drawing of the mind and character of the changing ideas towards parents his father. But the noticeable point everything spasmodic, growing, mudlies in the vivid contrast between the dled. Similarly Mr. E. M. Forster in father and son, the transition from the Howard's End shows the old house, dear hard-headed, scrupulous, rigid, narrow
to the heart of Mrs. Wilcox, as the minded Puritan, who is so typical of symbol of permanence in an unfixed the Victorian age, to the broad-minded, world which is homeless, restless, cultured littérateur of to-day. There is changing. Even if we look abroad we the fact of change the Rev. Mr. Philip shall find something of this same sense Gosse of forty years ago has become of the transformation in the order of the Mr. Edmund Gosse of to-day.
things; in America Mr. Winston Or, if we would see how the change Churchill has written a series of novels
to illustrate the successive phases in be ahead of their contemporaries and the American character, and in France to initiate ideas which are productive authors like M. Paul Bourget and M. of change; that the history of literature René Bazin emphasize respectively the is the history of the progress of thought change from aristocracy to democracy, and imagination; and that therefore and from the reverence of orthodoxy the present age does not differ in this to the vandal spirit of secularism, respect from others. To which I would
In a somewhat different way Mr. reply that whilst other literatures have Galsworthy, Mr. Shaw, and his able represented or initiated change, there disciple, Mr. Granville Barker, are af- has never been a time when so many fected by the torrential fluid of their of the best creative intellects have conenvironment. Of Mr. Galsworthy I shall sciously concerned themselves with have something more to say, and need this process, making change of condimerely point out for the moment that tions either their artistic subject or in Fraternity, Strife, and especially their deliberate practical object. The Justice, the author is indirectly advo- reason, of course, is obvious; there cating changes which, instead of being never has been a time when the world left to accident, are to be guided in was undergoing such a startling and accordance with a definite human pur rapid transformation. It is true, the pose. Mr. Shaw is curiously economic, material, scientific, and minded that he preaches against moral changes in the Athens of the change wherever he perceives it, and fifth century came about quickly and clamors for it when he perceives it not. drastically, apd the reconstitution of Thus in The Doctor's Dilemma and the intellectual and moral ideas mooted by Preface to it, finding himself con- the Sophists found a profound expres. fronted with great changes in medical sion in the dialectic of the drama. science, he denounces medical progress How far the Elizabethans were influand its pretensions as a superstition enced by the revival of learning and and a fraud. In Getting Married, on science, the discovery of the new world, the other hand, finding that the public and the expansion of commerce, is a is still often content with old-fashioned question not here to be embarked upon. ideas of sex relations and home life, he But it will not be disputed that the ridicules "home life as we understand face of the world has never in any it" on the ground that it is “no more known period of history been so natural to us than a cage is natural to changed out of all recognition as it has a cockatoo." I am not accusing him been by the scientific and industrial of any real inconsistency in thus alter- revolutions of the nineteenth century. nating between conservative and rev- The barbarian invasions which put an olutionary dogmas. For, no doubt, he end to Imperial Rome can have had no would hold that changes ought to have outward and visible effect comparable been made where there have been none, to that of the invasion of the machine. and that those which have occurred What wonder that the superficial, hurhave not followed the course which he, ried reader of to-day finds little to sator men gifted with similar foresight, isfy him in the literature of the sevenwould have prescribed.
teenth or eighteenth centuries, the It may be objected that the influence former so much concerned either with of change upon literature is not only religion or pleasure, the latter with felt by our contemporaries but has af- the moral virtues or their opposites! fected the literature of all times; that The Renaissance did not reach its it is the function of men of letters to moral consummation till the time of the French Revolution, its intellectual con- not escape from the fascination of this summation till the nineteenth century, ever-changing environment, where the its material consummation till the unplanned present obtrudes its fresh twentieth century and thereafter. The discontents, and the unknown future growth of science first affected the is pregnant with possibilities of good imagination, and through the imagina- and the alternative of unimaginable tion, the heart; its first offspring was evil. 'All perceive that something Romanticism and the idea of liberty must be done to direct the plunging and democracy. But science as it pro- course of this hydra-headed democgressed in the nineteenth century racy wbich, as its onrush is in any came, first with the machine and the case irresistible, may at any moment whip, then with the machine and the deviate from the path and fling itself moralist, at its elbow. But wherever headlong to perdition. When the and however it came, it transformed guns are firing and the battle is joined with lightning rapidity, just in that and the cries of the wounded fill the way in which Mr. Wells, Mr. Bennett, air, there are not many who can sit Mr. Forster, and Mr. Winston Church- down in the midst, like the German ill, the American, have indicated; till philosopher at the battle of Austerlitz, the mere fact of its transforming be- to contemplate the Absolute. Most of came so remarkable and absorbing that them, even though their function is that fact has almost exhausted the at- art, rush out to join the mêlée; and this tention of three-fourths of the artists is why they incur the censure of the and intellectuals of our age.
reviewers, making fiction and drama a So habituated then have we become branch of sociology. to rapid change in the conditions of life But one seems to hear, distinguishthat the first thing we postulate is fur- able occasionally amidst the din, a low, ther change. The rustic accustomed faint murmur. This way madness to the same food every day of his life lies. Is man, the master of his soul, to does not criticize his fare; it is the epi- be thus enslaved to his conditions? Is cure, accustomed to variety, who is he to be tossed hither and thither by critical of the menu. The active mind changes which he did not create, by which witnesses perpetual variety must ideas to which he did not subscribe, by be perpetually critical. To be aware a tempest he never wished to combat? that the conditions of to-day are differ- Is there no quiet place of refuge ent from the conditions of yesterday wherein he may be at peace to live as and of to-morrow is, according to the his ancestors lived, and to cherish the temperament of the beholder, to la- humble ambitions which they cherment the past or to hasten the future. ished? The answer, in a certain sense, In this respect the Radical and the is "No." The conventions which Conservative are alike, that it is the served their purpose have in many perception of change which determines cases lost their meaning; the duties our them, though it determines them in ancestors performed have lost their different ways, the one being affected usefulness; the old bottles will not by hope, the other by fear.
hold the new wine which our generadiscontented with the present, the one tion serves to us. And this is one because it falls short of the future, reason why so many people rate and which he imagines, the other because gibe at what they call the “muddleit has departed from the security of the headed British public”; because it can. past, which he idealizes.
And as we not change its ideas so quickly as it is have seen, even the creative artist can- forced to change its conditions of life.