Love of men for each other, The--so tender, heroic, constant
The love of men for each other — so tender, heroic, constant;
That has come all down the ages, in every clime, in every nation,
Always so true, so well assured of itself, overleaping barriers of age, of rank, of distance,
Flag of the camp of Freedom;
The love of women for each other — so rapt, intense, so confiding-close, so burning-passionate,
To unheard deeds of sacrifice, of daring and devotion, prompting;
And (not less) the love of men for women, and of women for men — on a newer greater scale than it has hitherto been conceived;
Grand, free and equal — gracious yet ever incommensurable —
The soul of Comradeship glides in.
The young heir goes to inspect the works of one of his tenants;
[Once more the king's son loves the shepherd lad;] In the shed the fireman is shovelling coal into the boiler furnace. He is either specially handsome nor specially intelligent, yet when he turns, from under his dark lids rimmed with coal dust shoots something so human, so loving-near, it makes the other tremble.
They only speak a few words, and lo! underneath all the differences of class and speech, of muscle and manhood, their souls are knit together.
The Cinghalese cooly comes on board a merchant vessel at Colombo, every day for a week or more, to do some bits of cleaning.
He is a sweet-natured bright intelligent fellow of 21 or so. One of the engineers is decently kind and friendly with him — gives him a knife and one or two little presents;
But the Cinghalese gives his very soul to the engineer; and worships his white jacket and overalls as though they were the shining garment of a god.
He cannot rest; but implores to be taken on the voyage; and weeps bitterly when he learns that the ship must sail without him.
Ah! weep not, brown-bodied youth wandering lonely by the surf-ridden shore — as you watch your white friend's vessel gliding into the offing, under the sun and the sun-fringed clouds;
Out, far out to sea, with your friend whom you will never see again;
Weep not so heart-brokenly, for even your tears, gentle boy, poured now upon the barren sand are the prophecy of amity that shall be one day between all the races of the earth.
And here are two women, both doctors and mature in their profession, whose souls are knit in a curiously deep affection.
They share a practice in a large town, and live in the same house together, exchanging all that they command, of life and affection and experience;
And this continues for twenty-years — till the death of the elder one — after which the other ceases not to visit her grave, twice every week, till the time of her own last illness.
And this is of a poor lad born in the slums, who with aching lonely heart once walked the streets of London.
Many spoke to him because he was fair — asked him to come and have a drink, and so forth; but still it was no satisfaction to him; for they did not give him that which he needed.
Then one day he saw a face in which love dwelt. It was a man twice his own age, captain of a sailing vessel — a large free man, well acquainted with the world, capable and kindly.
And the moment the lad saw him his heart was given to him, and he could not rest but must needs follow the man up and down — yet daring not to speak to him, and the other knowing nothing of it all.
And this continued — till the time came for the man to go another voyage. Then he disappeared; and the youth, still not knowing who or whence he was, fell into worse misery and loneliness than ever, for a whole year.
Till at last one day — or one evening rather — to his great joy he saw his friend going into a public house. It was in a little street off Mile-end Road. He slipped in and sat beside him.
And the man spoke to him, and was kind, but nothing more. And presently, as the hour was getting late, got up and said Goodnight, and went out at the door.
And the lad, suddenly seized with a panic fear that he might never see his friend again, hurried after him, and when they came to a quiet spot, ran up and seized him by the hand, and hardly knowing what he was doing fell on his knees on the pavement, and held him.
And the man at first thought this was a ruse or a mere conspiracy, but when he lifted the lad and looked in his face he understood, for he saw love written there. And he straightaway loved and received him.
And this is of a boy who sat in school.
The masters talked about Greek accidence and quadratic equations, and the boys talked about lobs and byes and bases and goals; but of that which was nearest to his heart no one said a word.
It was laughed at — or left unspoken.
Yet when the boy stood near some of his comrades in the cricket-field or sat next them in school, he stocked and stammered, because of some winged glorious thing which stood or sat between him and them.
And again the laughter came, because he had forgotten what he was doing; and he shrank into himself, and the walls round him grew, so that he was pent and lonely like a prisoner.
Till one day to him weeping, Love full-grown, all-glorious, pure, unashamed, unshackled, came like a god into his little cell, and swore to break the barriers.
And when the boy through his tears asked him how he would do that, Love answered not, but turning drew with his finger on the walls of the cell.
And as he drew, lo! beneath his finger sprang all forms of beauty, an endless host — outlines and colors of all that is, transfigured:
And, as he drew, the cell-walls widened — a new world rose — and folk came trooping in to gaze,
And the barriers had vanished.
Wonderful, beautiful, the Soul that knits the Body's life passed in,
And the barriers had vanished.
Everywhere under the surface the streamers shoot, auroral,
Strands and tissues of a new life forming.
Already the monstrous accumulations of private wealth seem useless and a burden —
At best to be absorbed in new formations.
The young woman from an upper class of society builds up her girls' club; the young man organizes his boys from the slums. Untiring is their care; but something more, more personal and close, than philanthropy inspires them.
The little guilds of workers are animated by a new spirit: to have pleasure in good work seems something worth living for; the home-colonists turn their backs on civilization if only they may realize a friendly life with Nature and each other; the girls in the dress-making shop stand in a new relation to their mistress, and work so gladly for her and with her; the employer of labor begins to doubt whether he gets any satisfaction by grinding the faces of his men — a new idea is germinating in his mind; even to the landlord it occurs that to create a glad and free village life upon his estate would be more pleasure than to shoot over it.
As to the millionaire, having spent his life in scheming for Wealth, he cannot but continue in the web which himself has woven; yet is heartily sick of it, and longs in a kind of vague way for something simple and unembarrassed. He is pestered to death by sharks, parasites, poor relations, politicians, adventurers, lawyers, company-promoters, begging letters and business correspondence, society functions, charitable and philanthropic schemes, town and country houses, stewards, bailiffs, flunkeys, and the care of endless possessions; and sees that to cast all these aside and devote his wealth if possible to the realization of a grand life for the mass-peoples of the Earth were indeed his best hope and happiness.
The graduate from Cambridge is a warm-hearted impulsive little woman, genuine and human to the core. Having escaped from high and dry home-circles, she found curiously the answer of her heart in a wage-worker of an East London workshop — a calm broad-browed woman, strong, clearheaded, somewhat sad in expression, and a bit of a leader among her trade-mates.
Having got into touch with each other, the two came at last to live together; and immediately on doing so found themselves a focus and centre of activities — like opposite poles of a battery through which when in contact the electricity streams.
So the news and interests of the two classes of society streamed through them. Through them too, folk from either side, especially women, came into touch with each other, and discovered a common cause and sympathy amid many surface differences.
Thus by a thousand needs beside their own compelled, was their love assured, their little home made sacred.
Everywhere a new motive of life dawns.
With the liberation of Love, and with it of Sex, with the sense that these are things — and the joy of them — not to be dreaded or barred, but to be made use of, wisely and freely, as a man makes use of his most honored possession,
Comes a new gladness:
The liberation of a Motive greater than Money,
And the only motive perhaps that can finally take precedence of Money.
That has come all down the ages, in every clime, in every nation,
Always so true, so well assured of itself, overleaping barriers of age, of rank, of distance,
Flag of the camp of Freedom;
The love of women for each other — so rapt, intense, so confiding-close, so burning-passionate,
To unheard deeds of sacrifice, of daring and devotion, prompting;
And (not less) the love of men for women, and of women for men — on a newer greater scale than it has hitherto been conceived;
Grand, free and equal — gracious yet ever incommensurable —
The soul of Comradeship glides in.
The young heir goes to inspect the works of one of his tenants;
[Once more the king's son loves the shepherd lad;] In the shed the fireman is shovelling coal into the boiler furnace. He is either specially handsome nor specially intelligent, yet when he turns, from under his dark lids rimmed with coal dust shoots something so human, so loving-near, it makes the other tremble.
They only speak a few words, and lo! underneath all the differences of class and speech, of muscle and manhood, their souls are knit together.
The Cinghalese cooly comes on board a merchant vessel at Colombo, every day for a week or more, to do some bits of cleaning.
He is a sweet-natured bright intelligent fellow of 21 or so. One of the engineers is decently kind and friendly with him — gives him a knife and one or two little presents;
But the Cinghalese gives his very soul to the engineer; and worships his white jacket and overalls as though they were the shining garment of a god.
He cannot rest; but implores to be taken on the voyage; and weeps bitterly when he learns that the ship must sail without him.
Ah! weep not, brown-bodied youth wandering lonely by the surf-ridden shore — as you watch your white friend's vessel gliding into the offing, under the sun and the sun-fringed clouds;
Out, far out to sea, with your friend whom you will never see again;
Weep not so heart-brokenly, for even your tears, gentle boy, poured now upon the barren sand are the prophecy of amity that shall be one day between all the races of the earth.
And here are two women, both doctors and mature in their profession, whose souls are knit in a curiously deep affection.
They share a practice in a large town, and live in the same house together, exchanging all that they command, of life and affection and experience;
And this continues for twenty-years — till the death of the elder one — after which the other ceases not to visit her grave, twice every week, till the time of her own last illness.
And this is of a poor lad born in the slums, who with aching lonely heart once walked the streets of London.
Many spoke to him because he was fair — asked him to come and have a drink, and so forth; but still it was no satisfaction to him; for they did not give him that which he needed.
Then one day he saw a face in which love dwelt. It was a man twice his own age, captain of a sailing vessel — a large free man, well acquainted with the world, capable and kindly.
And the moment the lad saw him his heart was given to him, and he could not rest but must needs follow the man up and down — yet daring not to speak to him, and the other knowing nothing of it all.
And this continued — till the time came for the man to go another voyage. Then he disappeared; and the youth, still not knowing who or whence he was, fell into worse misery and loneliness than ever, for a whole year.
Till at last one day — or one evening rather — to his great joy he saw his friend going into a public house. It was in a little street off Mile-end Road. He slipped in and sat beside him.
And the man spoke to him, and was kind, but nothing more. And presently, as the hour was getting late, got up and said Goodnight, and went out at the door.
And the lad, suddenly seized with a panic fear that he might never see his friend again, hurried after him, and when they came to a quiet spot, ran up and seized him by the hand, and hardly knowing what he was doing fell on his knees on the pavement, and held him.
And the man at first thought this was a ruse or a mere conspiracy, but when he lifted the lad and looked in his face he understood, for he saw love written there. And he straightaway loved and received him.
And this is of a boy who sat in school.
The masters talked about Greek accidence and quadratic equations, and the boys talked about lobs and byes and bases and goals; but of that which was nearest to his heart no one said a word.
It was laughed at — or left unspoken.
Yet when the boy stood near some of his comrades in the cricket-field or sat next them in school, he stocked and stammered, because of some winged glorious thing which stood or sat between him and them.
And again the laughter came, because he had forgotten what he was doing; and he shrank into himself, and the walls round him grew, so that he was pent and lonely like a prisoner.
Till one day to him weeping, Love full-grown, all-glorious, pure, unashamed, unshackled, came like a god into his little cell, and swore to break the barriers.
And when the boy through his tears asked him how he would do that, Love answered not, but turning drew with his finger on the walls of the cell.
And as he drew, lo! beneath his finger sprang all forms of beauty, an endless host — outlines and colors of all that is, transfigured:
And, as he drew, the cell-walls widened — a new world rose — and folk came trooping in to gaze,
And the barriers had vanished.
Wonderful, beautiful, the Soul that knits the Body's life passed in,
And the barriers had vanished.
Everywhere under the surface the streamers shoot, auroral,
Strands and tissues of a new life forming.
Already the monstrous accumulations of private wealth seem useless and a burden —
At best to be absorbed in new formations.
The young woman from an upper class of society builds up her girls' club; the young man organizes his boys from the slums. Untiring is their care; but something more, more personal and close, than philanthropy inspires them.
The little guilds of workers are animated by a new spirit: to have pleasure in good work seems something worth living for; the home-colonists turn their backs on civilization if only they may realize a friendly life with Nature and each other; the girls in the dress-making shop stand in a new relation to their mistress, and work so gladly for her and with her; the employer of labor begins to doubt whether he gets any satisfaction by grinding the faces of his men — a new idea is germinating in his mind; even to the landlord it occurs that to create a glad and free village life upon his estate would be more pleasure than to shoot over it.
As to the millionaire, having spent his life in scheming for Wealth, he cannot but continue in the web which himself has woven; yet is heartily sick of it, and longs in a kind of vague way for something simple and unembarrassed. He is pestered to death by sharks, parasites, poor relations, politicians, adventurers, lawyers, company-promoters, begging letters and business correspondence, society functions, charitable and philanthropic schemes, town and country houses, stewards, bailiffs, flunkeys, and the care of endless possessions; and sees that to cast all these aside and devote his wealth if possible to the realization of a grand life for the mass-peoples of the Earth were indeed his best hope and happiness.
The graduate from Cambridge is a warm-hearted impulsive little woman, genuine and human to the core. Having escaped from high and dry home-circles, she found curiously the answer of her heart in a wage-worker of an East London workshop — a calm broad-browed woman, strong, clearheaded, somewhat sad in expression, and a bit of a leader among her trade-mates.
Having got into touch with each other, the two came at last to live together; and immediately on doing so found themselves a focus and centre of activities — like opposite poles of a battery through which when in contact the electricity streams.
So the news and interests of the two classes of society streamed through them. Through them too, folk from either side, especially women, came into touch with each other, and discovered a common cause and sympathy amid many surface differences.
Thus by a thousand needs beside their own compelled, was their love assured, their little home made sacred.
Everywhere a new motive of life dawns.
With the liberation of Love, and with it of Sex, with the sense that these are things — and the joy of them — not to be dreaded or barred, but to be made use of, wisely and freely, as a man makes use of his most honored possession,
Comes a new gladness:
The liberation of a Motive greater than Money,
And the only motive perhaps that can finally take precedence of Money.
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