第119章 CHAPTER XLVIII(2)
- Tracks of a Rolling Stone
- Henry J Coke
- 1050字
- 2016-03-02 16:37:33
When first published in 1874, this learned work, summarising and elaborately examining the higher criticism of the four Gospels up to date, created a sensation throughout the theological world, which was not a little intensified by the anonymity of its author. The virulence with which it was attacked by Dr. Lightfoot, the most erudite bishop on the bench, at once demonstrated its weighty significance and its destructive force; while Mr. Morley's high commendation of its literary merits and the scrupulous equity of its tone, placed it far above the level of controversial diatribes.
In my 'Creeds of the Day' I had made frequent references to the anonymous book; and soon after my introduction to Mr. Cassels spoke to him of its importance, and asked him whether he had read it. He hesitated for a moment, then said:
'We are very much of the same way of thinking on these subjects. I will tell you a secret which I kept for some time even from my publishers - I am the author of "Supernatural Religion."'
From that time forth, we became the closest of allies. I know no man whose tastes and opinions and interests are more completely in accord with my own than those of Mr. Walter Cassels. It is one of my greatest pleasures to meet him every summer at the beautiful place of our mutual and sympathetic friend, Mrs. Robertson, on the skirts of the Ashtead forest, in Surrey.
The winter of 1888 I spent at Cairo under the roof of General Sir Frederick Stephenson, then commanding the English forces in Egypt. I had known Sir Frederick as an ensign in the Guards. He was adjutant of his regiment at the Alma, and at Inkerman. He is now Colonel of the Coldstreams and Governor of the Tower. He has often been given a still higher title, that of 'the most popular man in the army.'
Everybody in these days has seen the Pyramids, and has been up the Nile. There is only one name I have to mention here, and that is one of the best-known in the world. Mr. Thomas Cook was the son of the original inventor of the 'Globe-trotter.' But it was the extraordinary energy and powers of organisation of the son that enabled him to develop to its present efficiency the initial scheme of the father.
Shortly before the General's term expired, he invited Mr. Cook to dinner. The Nile share of the Gordon Relief Expedition had been handed over to Cook. The boats, the provisioning of them, and the river transport service up to Wady Halfa, were contracted for and undertaken by Cook.
A most entertaining account he gave of the whole affair. He told us how the Mudir of Dongola, who was by way of rendering every possible assistance, had offered him an enormous bribe to wreck the most valuable cargoes on their passage through the Cataracts.
Before Mr. Cook took leave of the General, he expressed the regret felt by the British residents in Cairo at the termination of Sir Frederick's command; and wound up a pretty little speech by a sincere request that he might be allowed to furnish Sir Frederick GRATIS with all the means at his disposal for a tour through the Holy Land. The liberal and highly complimentary offer was gratefully acknowledged, but at once emphatically declined. The old soldier, (at least, this was my guess,) brave in all else, had not the courage to face the tourists' profanation of such sacred scenes.
Dr. Bird told me a nice story, a pendant to this, of Mr. Thomas Cook's liberality. One day, before the Gordon Expedition, which was then in the air, Dr. Bird was smoking his cigarette on the terrace in front of Shepherd's Hotel, in company with four or five other men, strangers to him and to one another. A discussion arose as to the best means of relieving Gordon. Each had his own favourite general.
Presently the doctor exclaimed: 'Why don't they put the thing into the hands of Cook? I'll be bound to say he would undertake it, and do the job better than anyone else.'
'Do you know Cook, sir?' asked one of the smokers who had hitherto been silent.
'No, I never saw him, but everybody knows he has a genius for organisation; and I don't believe there is a general in the British Army to match him.'
When the company broke up, the silent stranger asked the doctor his name and address, and introduced himself as Thomas Cook. The following winter Dr. Bird received a letter enclosing tickets for himself and Miss Bird for a trip to Egypt and back, free of expense, 'in return for his good opinion and good wishes.'
After my General's departure, and a month up the Nile, I - already disillusioned, alas! - rode through Syria, following the beaten track from Jerusalem to Damascus. On my way from Alexandria to Jaffa I had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of an agreeable fellow-traveller, Mr. Henry Lopes, afterwards member for Northampton, also bound for Palestine. We went to Constantinople and to the Crimea together, then through Greece, and only parted at Charing Cross.
It was easy to understand Sir Frederick Stephenson's (supposed) unwillingness to visit Jerusalem. It was probably far from being what it is now, or even what it was when Pierre Loti saw it, for there was no railway from Jaffa in our time. Still, what Loti pathetically describes as 'une banalite de banlieue parisienne,' was even then too painfully casting its vulgar shadows before it. And it was rather with the forlorn eyes of the sentimental Frenchman than with the veneration of Dean Stanley, that we wandered about the ever-sacred Aceldama of mortally wounded and dying Christianity.
One dares not, one could never, speak irreverently of Jerusalem. One cannot think heartlessly of a disappointed love. One cannot tear out creeds interwoven with the tenderest fibres of one's heart. It is better to be silent.
Yet is it a place for unwept tears, for the deep sadness and hard resignation borne in upon us by the eternal loss of something dearer once than life. All we who are weary and heavy laden, in whom now shall we seek the rest which is not nothingness?