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first time in the world, millions of peo- the unknown, on adventuring the apple are making the adventure of faith, plication of laws but half divined. engrossed in the effect of immortality, Nature inexhaustibly renews her the effect of God, not as a dogma of the energies out of decay, in accordance next world, but as a practice for this with some sure discernment of what is one. There is nothing new about im- indestructible. We shall advance our mortality, there is nothing new about civilization when we learn to imitate God; there is everything new in the the largeness of her gestures and their fact that we are at last willing to live confidence in some imperishable plan. as if we believed in both. This is the The more the loss of loved ones makes religion of the New Death.

the world of to-day turn wistfully to If, even for a few generations, we ward human survival, the more shall act on our conjecture of immortality, its mere possibility inspire our enthe larger vision, the profounder basis deavor to bring all earth achievement of purpose will so advance human ex- into better connection with eternity. istence as to make this war worth its The New Death, with its growing price. Our accepting the finality of conviction of survival, makes men dissolution as a law of nature has been loath to leave the experiences of the a blindness obstructive to progress. present until fully tested, not because The history of civilization is made up the present, as materialism taught, is of two movements, understanding of all, but because it is only a part, and natural laws and submission to them. for that very reason a passage to be We do not chain the lightning; we first explored more thoughtfully because ascertain its laws, and then make all the dignity of continuance adds a new our inventions comply with them. dignity to every step of our eternal Civilization has been long retarded be pilgrimage. If we are immortal, then cause we have not ruled our lives in more beauty, not less, attaches to our obedience to the laws of death. We mortal sojourn. The more we believe have either fought them, or neglected in an eternal sequence for the soul, the them; we have never built either our more respect we shall have for its private plans or our state edifice frank- physical experience, and the less lightly ly in accordance with them. Civiliza- we shall Aling away the mysterious tion is first a spiritual advance, and privileges of the flesh. The life beyond only secondarily a material one. The the grave may at moments entrance liberation of the soul, so that it may

be our imagination, but it is not on this free to conceive and to accomplish, is account over-seductive, but rather it the first condition of progress, but it is exalts our earth life as being the coma condition that has been inextricably plement of our after-death life; it may hampered by the dread of death. Our even be far more difficult, therefore highest endeavor has been half sur- more alluring to the daring. If we are reptitious, based on the chance escape deathless beings, then each hour on from the constant menace of interrup- earth has a new sublimity, each mo tion. We flattered ourselves for a cen- ment may contain some development tury that science was furthering human of our high destiny that it may be pordevelopment. We know to-day how far tentous to miss. The old view of our it has put it back. Yet for our future dying, which made us seem to ourwe have learned from science the in- selves puny and ephemeral beings valuable fact that all new achievement tossed by chance into a brief consciousis founded on a daring manipulation of ness, obstructed all our free growth

here and hereafter. It was essentially The New Death is that attitude of a maladjustment of living to dying the soul which looks both forward and which retarded all genuine progress. back — back to the lives of the boys The New Death liberates us from our we have lost, forward to that immortal paralyzing puniness by its vista of each life they have entered. Between that man's power to adapt his mortal course past of ours, sacred to sorrow, and that to its immortal promise.

eternal future sacred to expectation, As the new intimacy with death lies for each of us an earth-space for frees us from the fear of our own dis- endeavor illuminated equally by grief solution, transmuting dread into the and by hope. The words and the deeds stimulus of hope, so the New Death of our dead shed sure radiance upon provides that adaptation of love to loss our way. Our debt to the great Design which transmutes bereavement into is to weave into the pattern both their energy. Four years ago the activity dream and our new reverence for our of the world was conditioned on our own destiny. To make each moment power to forget death. 'Our dead lay granted us pregnant with energy becoffined in our hearts. We hesitated to cause of the light shed on the physical speak of them, as we should have hesi- sojourn by their death past, and by tated to ask our friends to go with us our death to come, that is to bring into to a grave - a visit that for ourselves the new world a force to make death as was either a duty or a solace, but might creative as it used to be corruptive. have hurt the sensibilities of others. The New Death is the perception of Such conduct was to shun death, not our mortal end as the mere portal of an to accept it. It was not death that eternal progression, and the immediate killed our loved ones, it was our man- result is the consecration of all living. ner of concealing grief, as if it were a As we step into the future we test our thing unclean and painful, abnormal as ground now for its spiritual foundadisease. To-day brave grief is a sign tions. If our faith is to lead us where of the soul's health.

our dead boys have gone, it must be a We used to hide away our loved ones faith built, like theirs, of spirit-values. from our conversation, denying them on the mere guess that death is a porthat earthly influence which is one tal is founded the resilience of the hellbranch of their bourgeoning. To-day, rocked world to-day. It is a new illuwhen millions of mothers grieve, it mination, a New Death, when dying would be travesty to pretend that their can be the greatest inspiration of our lost sons are not their foremost everyday energy, the strongest impulse thought. We cannot hide away so toward daily joy. If only the beauty of many dead. Their presence must enter the vision the tragedy has revealed can our daily talk, must mingle with our be retained a little while! For this litdaily tasks. At last we no longer con- tle while has death come into its own as demn our dead to graves in a past that the great enhancer and enricher of life. we keep private, but allow them their This is the lesson that the slain rightful place in our present. They splendor of youth has taught to a morihave become so great an army that bund world. To construct a new world their earthly influence cannot be buried. on the faith that their words and their We know not what dulling of our pres- sacrifice attest is the sole expression ent vision the future may contain, but permitted to our mourning; it is the for a while this earth is going frankly sole monument beautiful enough to be to hold its homes open to its dead. their memorial.





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her grave.

Philip Kemble and with Mrs. Siddons.

By her sprightliness and grace she had On a cold, raw day in December, charmed Fox and Sheridan and the 1882, there was laid to rest in Bromp- generations which followed, down to ton Cemetery, in London, an old lady, Charles Dickens, who had acted with

an actress, whose name, Frances her in private theatricals at her own Maria Kelly, meant little to the gener- private theatre in Dean Street, - now ation of theatre-goers, then busy with the Royalty, — taking the part of Cap the rising reputation of Henry Irving tain Bobadil in Every Man in his and Ellen Terry. She was a very old Humor. lady when she died — ninety-two, to Nothing is more evanescent than the be exact; she had outlived her fame and reputation of an actor. Every age linher friends, and few followed her to gers lovingly over the greatness of the

actors of its own youth; thus it was I have said that the day was cold and that the theatre-goer of the eighteenraw. I do not know certainly that it eighties only yawned when told of the was so; I was not there; but for my grace of Miss Kelly's Ophelia, of the sins I have passed many Decembers in charm of her Lydia Languish, or of her London, and take the right, in Charles bewitchingness in ‘breeches parts. To Lamb's phrase, to damn the weather some she was the old actress for whom at a venture.

the government was being solicited to Fanny Kelly, as she was called by do something; a few thought of her as the generations that knew her, came of the old maiden lady who was obsessed a theatrical family, and most of her with the idea that Charles Lamb had long life had been passed on the stage. once made her an offer of marriage. She was only seven when she made her It was well known that, half a cenfirst appearance at Drury Lane, at tury before, Lamb had been one of which theatre she acted for some her greatest admirers. Every reader of thirty-six years, when she retired; sub- his dramatic criticisms and his letters sequently she established a school of knew that; they knew, too, that in one dramatic artand gave from time to time of his daintiest essays, perhaps the what she termed 'Entertainments,' in most exquisite essay in the language, which she sometimes took as many as

Dream Children, A Reverie,' Lamb, fourteen different parts in a single speaking apparently more autobioevening. With her death the last link graphically than usual even for him, connecting us with the age of Johnson

says, was broken. She had acted with John *Then I told how, for seven long

years, in hope sometimes, sometimes Churchyard for seventy years. Innum

, , in despair, yet persisting ever, I court- erable sketches and lives and memoed the fair Alice W-n; and, as much rials of him, 'final' and otherwise, had as children could understand, I explain- been written and read. His letters - ed to them what coyness, and difficul- not complete, perhaps, but volumes of ty, and denial meant to maidens them — had been published and read when suddenly, turning to Alice, the by the constantly increasing number of soul of the first Alice looked out at her his admirers, and no one suspected that eyes with such a reality of re-present- Lamb had had a serious love-affair ment, that I became in doubt which of the world accepting without reserve them stood there before me, or whose the statement of one of his biographthat bright hair was; and while I stood, ers that 'Lamb at the bidding of duty gazing, both the children gradually remained single, wedding himself to grew fainter to my view, receding and the sad fortunes of his sister.' still receding, till nothing at last but Then, quite unexpectedly, in 1903, two mournful features were seen in the John Hollingshead, the former manuttermost distance, which, without ager of the Gaiety Theatre, discovered speech, strangely impressed upon me and published two letters of Charles the effects of speech: “We are not of Lamb written on the same day, July Alice, nor of thee, nor are we children 20, 1819. One, a long letter in Lamb's at all. The children of Alice call Bar- most serious vein, in which he formally trum father. We are nothing; less than offers his hand, and in a way his sister's, nothing, and dreams. We are only to Miss Kelly, and the other a whimwhat might have been."

sical, elfish letter, in which he tries to I am quoting, not from the printed disguise the fact that in her refusal of text, but from the original manuscript, him he has received a hard blow. which is my most cherished literary By reason of this important discovpossession; and this lovely peroration, ery, every line that Lamb had written if such it may be called, is the only in regard to Fanny Kelly was read with part of the essay which has been much new interest, and an admirable bioginterlineated or recast. It appears to raphy of him by his latest and most have occasioned Lamb considerable sympathetic critic, Edward Verrall difficulty; there was obviously some Lucas, appearing shortly afterwards, searching for the right word; a part of was carefully studied to see what, if it, indeed, was entirely rewritten. any, further light could be thrown upon

The coyness, the difficulty, and the this interesting subject. But it appears denial of Alice: was it not immortally that the whole story has been told in written into the record by Lamb him- the letters, and students of Lamb were self? Miss Kelly's rejection of an offer thrown back upon the already pubof marriage from him must be a fig- lished references. ment of the imagination of an old lady, In the Works of Lamb, published in who, as her years approached a cen- 1818, Lamb had addressed to Miss tury, had her dream-children, too - Kelly a sonnet: children who called Lamb father.

You are not, Kelly, of the common strain, There the matter rested. Fanny That stoop their pride and female honor down Kelly was by way of being forgotten: To please that many-headed beast, the town, all the facts of Lamb's life were known,

And vend their lavish smiles and tricks for gain;

By fortune thrown amid the actor's train, apparently, and he had lain in a cu

You keep your native dignity of thought; riously neglected grave in Edmonton The plaudits that attend you come unsought,


As tributes due unto your natural vein. tive in speaking of anything Lamb
Your tears have passion in them, and a grace wrote), after telling the story of a poor
Of genuine freshness, which our hearts avow;
Your smiles are winds whose ways we cannot

little stage waif, receiving by mistake a trace,

whole sovereign instead of the half a That vanish and return we know not how - one justly due for a week's pay, and And please the better from a pensive face, how she was tempted to keep it, but did And thoughtful eye, and a reflecting brow. .

not, he adds, 'I had the anecdote from And early in the following year he had the mouth of the late Mrs. Crawford.' printed in a provincial journal an ap- Here seemed to be plain sailing, and a

, preciation of her acting, comparing her, grave editors pointed out who Mrs. not unfavorably, with Mrs. Jordan, Crawford was: they told her maiden who, in her day, then over, is said to name, and for good measure threw in have had no rival in comedy parts. the names of her several husbands.

Lamb's earliest reference to Miss But Lamb, in a letter to Bernard BarKelly, however, appears to be in a let- ton in 1825, speaking of these essays, ter to the Wordsworths, in which he said, "Tell me how you like “Barbara

“ says that he can keep the accounts of S” I never saw Mrs. Crawford his office, comparing sum with sum, in my life, nevertheless 't is all true of writing ‘Paid' against one and ‘Un- somebody.' And some years later, not paid' against t'other (this was long long before he died, to another corbefore the days of scientific bookkeep- respondent he wrote, 'As Miss Kelly is ing and much-vaunted efficiency), and just now in notoriety,' — she was then )

still reserve a corner of his mind for the giving an entertainment called 'Dra. memory of some passage from a book, matic Recollections at the Strand Theor 'the gleam of Fanny Kelly's divine atre, ‘it may amuse you to know plain face.' This is an always quoted that “Barbara S” is all of it true reference and seems correctly to de- of her, being all communicated to me scribe the lady, who is spoken of by from her own mouth. Can we not conothers as an unaffected, sensible, clear- trive to make up a party to see her?' headed, warm-hearted woman, plain There is another reference to Miss but engaging, with none of the vanities Kelly, which, in the light of our subseor arrogance of the actress about her.

quent knowledge, is as dainty a sug. It will be recalled that Lamb had no gestion of marriage with her as can be love for blue-stocking women, and found in the annals of courtship. It speaking of one, said, "If she belonged appeared in The Examiner just a fort

' to me I would lock her up and feed night before Lamb's proposal, which her on bread and water till she left off was shortly to follow. In a criticism of

a writing poetry. A female poet, or fe- her acting as Rachel in The Jovial Crew, male author of any kind, ranks below now forgotten, Lamb was, he says, an actress, I think.' This shortest way interrupted in the enjoyment of the with minor poets has, perhaps, much play by a stranger who sat beside him to recommend it.

remarking of Miss Kelly, 'What a lass It was Lamb's whim in his essays to that were to go a gypsying through the be frequently misleading, setting his world with!' Knowing how frequently signals at full speed ahead when they Lamb addressed Elia, his other self, should have been set at danger, or, at

and Elia, Lamb, may we not suppose least, at caution. Thus in his charming that on this occasion the voice of the

. essay ‘Barbara S (how uncon- stranger was the voice of Elia? Was it sciously one invariably uses this adjec- unlikely that Miss Kelly, who would

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