is just time itself, with all its whirl and play of circumstance. Time, the revolving wheel, spins fast, and the soul lies passive like clay; but though time changes, and the wheel rushes on or turns back or stops, the impress which it gives to the clay is never lost. "Time's wheel runs back or stops: Potter and clay endure.” Therefore it is useless to lament the passage of time and the change of things, for the earth and its happenings are but the Potter's machinery, which should perish when they have served their purpose. If in the moulding of the cup, the love-grooves about the base are succeeded by grim figures of skull-things about the rim when the cup is almost finished, there is here no cause for consternation or alarm. What does it matter? Let not the cup look backward, but forward to the uses for which it is framed, the consummation of the long process, when it shall be taken into the Master's own hand at the banquet of heaven, and used to slake the Master's thirst. "Thou, heaven's consummate cup, what needst thou with earth's wheel?" Therefore the cup may look forward with complacency to its completion and final removal from the wheel of Time, saying only to the Master, "My times be in thy hand! Perfect the cup as planned! Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same!" And so the poem ends. Such, then, is one man's patiently sought answer to the riddle of life. As we read it, we cannot help saying, "Well done, Rabbi Ben Ezra!" The whole theory is a beautiful thing, and as expressed in Browning's terse, vigorous, inspiring language, it obtains a forcefulness that is irresistible. The completeness with which it answers the demand for unity in the experiences of life, for a fulfillment of the promises of youth, and a meaning to the whole, is evident; with such a theory of things, there can be no room for despair; or even for hesitation and wavering. But, let us ask, on what foundation does it all rest? Whence comes this "knowledge absolute, subject to no dispute," which Rabbi Ben Ezra hopes to attain later, and yet has in some measure even now? What assurance has he that his whole scheme of the Potter and the whirling wheel and shaping clay are not momentary illusions, a figment of his own brain at best a revival of his old youthful habit of hoping? Truly enough, his doubts have been solved and his questions answered, but is there not a possibility that they may have been answered falsely? Above all, why does he frame his answer in exactly this form rather than another? I think that to all of these questions there is but one sufficient answer. The theory of things presented in this poem is, like every other theory of things, the theory of an individual (and may we not assume that in this case the individual is Browning himself?), and is therefore, in large measure, an expression of his personality is in fact his theory. It is the man's own nature that expresses itself in his thought, and in this case the value of the expression is greatly increased by the fact that it may be taken as the type of a certain class of theories or ways of looking at thingsthe very sum and substance of a certain quality of mind, of a certain temperament. And the essence of this temper, this way of seeing things, is, I think, expressed in the word courage. Persons of this temper are invariably persons in whom doing takes precedence of mere thinking; and their answers to theoretical questions are not so much answers to the question, "How is it?" as to the question, "How will you have it?" They are strong hearts, whose creed is hope, and in whom the courage to achieve hope is never lacking. They make certain demands of life; and their theoretical principles must conform to certain requirements in order that mere life should be possible to them. There must for them be no gaps in the plan of things; there must be no broken music-no room for such things as blind chance and failure and unrelated happenings. In order that this should be so, there must be some fixed point of reference for all the daily happenings of life, some one firm, unshakable truth which shall stand unmoved amid all the changes and the shows of things. For these souls, the music of the spheres is no idle fiction; it is the supreme reality, penetrating all things, and rendering existence itself possible. Their belief in its reality is not so much a self-persuasion as a postulate which they make of things, arising from the needs of their own natures, and always with the reserve answer of doubters: "If it is not so, I will act as though it were so." The need is the prominent thing: to my mind, the most characteristic utterance of the whole poem is this: "But I need, now as then, Thee, God, who mouldest men." Those words tell the whole tale-make the whole poem comprehensible. For out of this need, this courage, this hope, grows faith. But the two lines quoted above reveal also another aspect of Rabbi Ben Ezra's thought, and cast a side light on the whole. This implied confession that the thing postulated is in the end only postulated, that, after all, God is very far off from man and can be touched only by stretching out groping hands of faith-this thought, with its implications, gives a pathos to the closing of the poem, and reminds us that Rabbi Ben Ezra has only just now passed beyond the stage of doubt and despair. This pathetic, appealing tone may be caught in many passages; it is an undertone, though almost inaudible, throughout the whole poem. The very vehemence of its assertion of the Right, the Good and the Infinite shows that the poem is to be taken as a protest-a protest against loss and failure and death. These are the things that minds of the courageous type protest against; and the systems that they frame, as well as the separate acts of their lives are all the more vehemently wrought out, all the more forceful, all the more beautiful, for the realization of a difficulty to be overcome only by means of such courage. So far from restraining their impulses, the thought of an obstacle adds but another flower to their garland of triumph. THE UNIVERSITY. COMMENCEMENT. The story of Commencement week may be most concisely and effectively told by the programs of the various exercises printed below. Friday, 8:30 p. m., Grace Hall. Reception to the University, given by the Ashbel Literary Society. Saturday, June 16, 1900, 8:30 p. m. Contest for the Grubb's medal, by members of the Ashbel Literary Society. PROGRAM. Music-U. of T. Glee Club. Introductory Remarks-Prof. E. D. Shurter. Question: Equal facilities for industrial training should be provided by the State for young men and young women. First Speaker-Florence Magnenat. Song Miss Mary Heard, Miss Lizzie Rutherford. Second Speaker-Cincinnati Willis. Music-U. of T. Glee Club. Third Speaker-Edith Lanier Clark. Judges-Miss Elizabet Ney, Hon. V. W. Grubbs, Hon. Clarence Miller. The medal was awarded to Miss Florence Magnenat. SUNDAY, JUNE 17, 1900. Services conducted by the Rt. Rev. G. H. Kinsolving, Bishop of Texas. Sermon, by Rev. Dr. Lyman Abbott, of New York City. Music by volunteers from the city choirs, under the direction of H. Guest Collins, Organist of St. David's Episcopal Church; accompanied by Besserer's Orchestra. Orchestral Prelude "Artemis"-Stahl. Anthem "The Radiant Morn"-Woodward. Hymn "Holy, Holy, Holy." 1. Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty! Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee; Holy, holy holy! merciful and mighty! God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity! 2. Holy, holy, holy! all the saints adore Thee, Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea, Cherubim and seraphim falling down before Thee, Which wert and art and evermore shall be. 3. Holy, holy, holy! though the darkness hide Thee, Though the eye of sinful man Thy glory may not see, Only Thou art holy; there is none beside Thee, Perfect in power, in love and purity. 4. Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty! All thy works shall praise Thy name, in earth, and sky, and sea; Holy, holy, holy! merciful and mighty! God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity! Amen. Prayer. Hymn-"Crown Him with many Crowns." 1. Crown Him with many crowns, Hark! how the heav'nly anthem drowns All music but its own; Awake, my soul and sing Of Him who died for thee, And hail Him as thy matchless King Through all eternity. 2. Crown Him the Lord of love; Rich wounds, yet visible above In beauty glorified: No angel in the sky Can fully bear that sight, But downward bends his wand'ring eye At mysteries so bright. 3. Crown Him the Lord of peace, Whose power a sceptre sways From pole to pole, that wars may cease, And all be prayer and praise. His reign shall know no end, |
