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CHAPTER VIII
James Blatherwick was proving himself not unacceptable to his native
parish, where he was thought a very rising man, inasmuch as his fluency was
far ahead of his perspicuity. He soon came to note the soutar as a man far
in advance of the rest of his parishioners; but he saw, at the same time,
that he was regarded by most as a wild fanatic if not as a dangerous
heretic; and himself imagined that he saw in him certain indications of a
mild lunacy.
In Tiltowie he pursued the same course as elsewhere: anxious to let nothing
come between him and the success of his eloquence, he avoided any
appearance of differing in doctrine from his congregation; and until he
should be more firmly established, would show himself as much as possible
of the same mind with them, using the doctrinal phrases he had been
accustomed to in his youth, or others so like that they would be taken to
indicate unchanged opinions, while for his part he practised a mental
reservation in regard to them.
He had noted with some degree of pleasure in the soutar, that he used
almost none of the set phrases of the good people of the village, who
devoutly followed the traditions of the elders; but he knew little as to
what the soutar did not believe, and still less of what he did believe with
all his heart and soul; for John MacLear could not even utter the name of
God without therein making a confession of faith immeasurably beyond
anything inhabiting the consciousness of the parson; and on his part soon
began to note in James a total absence of enthusiasm in regard to such
things of which his very calling implied at least an absolute acceptance:
he would allude to any or all of them as merest matters of course! Never
did his face light up when he spoke of the Son of God, of his death, or of
his resurrection; never did he make mention of the kingdom of heaven as if
it were anything more venerable than the kingdom of Great Britain and
Ireland.
But the soul of the soutar would venture far into the twilight, searching
after the things of God, opening wider its eyes, as the darkness widened
around them. On one occasion the parson took upon him to remonstrate with
what seemed to him the audacity of his parishioner:
"Don't you think you are just going a little too far there, Mr. MacLear?"
he said.
"Ye mean ower far intil the dark, Mr. Blatherwick?"
"Yes, that is what I mean. You speculate too boldly."
"But dinna ye think, sir, that that direction it's plain the dark grows a
wee thinner, though I grant ye there's nothing yet to ca' licht? Licht we
may aye ken by its ain fair shinin, and by noucht else!"
"But the human soul is just as apt to deceive itself as the human eye! It
is always ready to take a flash inside itself for something objective!"
said Blatherwick.
"Nae doobt! nae doobt! but whan the true licht comes, ye aye ken the
differ! A man may tak the dark for licht, but he canna take the licht for
darkness!"
"And there must always be something for the light to shine upon, else the
man sees nothing!" said the parson.
"There's thoucht, and possible insicht intil the man!" said the soutar to
himself.--"Maybe, like the Ephesians, ye haena yet fund oot gien there be
ony Holy Ghost, sir?" he said to him aloud.
"No man dares deny that!" answered the minister.
"Still a man mayna ken't, though he daursna deny't! Nane but them 'at
follows whaur he leads, can ken that he verily is."
"We must beware of private interpretation!" suggested James.
"Gien a man hearsna a word spoken til his ain sel', he has na the word to
lippen til! The Scriptur is to him but a sealed buik; he walks i' the dark.
The licht is neither pairtit nor gethered. Gien a man has licht, he has
nane the less that there's twa or three o' them thegither present.--Gien
there be twa or three prayin thegither, ilk ane o' the three has jist what
he's able to receive, and he kens 't in himsel as licht; and the fourth may
hae nane. Gien it comena to ilk ane o' them, it comesna to a'. Ilk ane maun
hae the revelation intil his ain sel', as gien there wasna ane mair. And
gien it be sae, hoo are we to win at ony trouth no yet revealed, 'cep we
gang oot intil the dark to meet it? Ye maun caw canny, I admit, i' the
mirk; but ye maun caw gien ye wad win at onything!" "But suppose you know
enough to keep going, and do not care to venture into the dark?"
"Gien a man hauds on practeesin what he kens, the hunger 'ill wauk in him
efter something mair. I'm thinkin the angels had lang to desire afore they
could luik intil certain things they sair wantit; but ye may be sure they
warna left withoot as muckle licht as would lead honest fowk safe on!"
"But suppose they couldn't tell whether what they seemed to see was true
light or not?"
"Syne they would hae to fa' back upo the wull o' the great Licht: we ken
weel he wants us a' to see as he himsel sees! Gien we seek that Licht,
we'll get it; gien we carena for't, we're jist naething and naegait, and
are in sore need o' some sharp discipleen."
"I'm afraid I can't follow you quite. The fact is, I have been so long
occupied with the Bible history, and the new discoveries that bear
testimony to it, that I have had but little time for metaphysics."
"And what's the guid o' history, or sic metapheesics as is the vera sowl o'
history, but to help ye to see Christ? and what's the guid o' seein Christ
but sae to see God wi' hert and un'erstan'in baith as to ken that yer seein
him? Ye min' hoo the Lord said nane could ken the Father but the man to
whom the Son revealt him? Sir, it's fell time ye had a glimp o' that! Ye
ken naething till ye ken God--the only ane a man can truly and railly ken!"
"Well, you're a long way ahead of me, and for the present I'm afraid
there's nothing left but to say good-night to you!"
And therewith the minister departed.
"Lord," said the soutar, as he sat guiding his awl through sole and welt
and upper of the shoe on his last, "there's surely something at work i' the
yoong man! Surely he canna be that far frae waukin up to see and ken that
he sees and kens naething! Lord, pu' doon the dyke o' learnin and self-
richteousness that he canna see ower the tap o', and lat him see thee upo'
the ither side o' 't. Lord, sen' him the grace o' oppen e'en to see whaur
and what he is, that he may cry oot wi' the lave o' 's, puir blin' bodies,
to them that winna see. 'Wauk, thoo that sleepest, and come oot o' thy
grave, and see the licht o' the Father i' the face o' the Son.'"
But the minister went away intent on classifying the soutar by finding out
with what sect of the middle-age mystics to place him. At the same time
something strange seemed to hover about the man, refusing to be handled in
that way. Something which he called his own religious sense appeared to
know something of what the soutar must mean, though he could neither
isolate nor define it.
Faithlessly as he had behaved to Isy, Blatherwick was not consciously, that
is with purpose or intent, a deceitful man. He had, on the contrary, always
cherished a strong faith in his own honour. But faith in a thing, in an
idea, in a notion, is no proof, or even sign that the thing actually
exists: in the present case it had no root except in the man's thought of
himself, in his presentation to himself of his own reflected self. The man
who thought so much of his honour was in truth a moral unreality, a
cowardly fellow, a sneak who, in the hope of escaping consequences,
carried himself as beyond reproof. How should such a one ever have the
power of spiritual vision developed in him? How should such a one ever see
God--ever exist in the same region in which the soutar had long taken up
his abode? Still there was this much reality in him, and he had made this
much progress that, holding fast by his resolve henceforward no more to
slide, he was aware also of a dim suspicion of something he had not seen,
but which he might become able to see; and was half resolved to think and
read, for the future, with the intent to find out what this strange man
seemed to know, or thought he knew.
Soon finding himself unable, however, try as hard as he might, to be sure
of anything, he became weary of the effort, and sank back into the old,
self-satisfied, blind sleep.
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