Spencer Heath Archive

Item 3035

Typed pages from G. Lowes Dickinson. A Modern Symposium, one of Heath’s cherished books  Address of John Woodman, of the Society of Friends.

No date

All of our company had now spoken except two. One was the author, Vivian, and him I decided to leave till the last. The other was John Woodman, a member of the Society of Friends, and one who was commonly regarded as a crank, because he lived on a farm in the country, worked with his hands, and refused to pay taxes on the ground that they went to maintain the army and navy. If Harrington was handsome, Woodman was beautiful, but with beau­ty of expression rather than of features. I had always thought of him as a perfect example of that rare type, the genuine Christian. And since Harrington had just revealed himself as a typical pagan, I felt glad of the chance which brought the two men into such close juxtaposition. My only doubt was, whether Woodman would consent to speak. For, on previous occasions I had known him to refuse; and he was the only one of us who had always been able to sustain his refusal, without unpleasantness, but without yielding. Tonight, however, he rose in response to my appeal, and spoke as follows:

“All the evening I have been wondering when the lot would fall on me, and whether, when it did, I should feel, as we Friends say, ‘free’ to answer the call. Now it has come, I am, I think, free; but not, if you will pardon me, for a long or eloquent speech. What I have to say I shall say as simply and as briefly as I can, and you, I know will listen with your accustomed tolerance, though I shall differ even more, if possible, from all the other speakers, than they have differed from one another. For you all have spoken from the point of view of the world. You have put forward propos­als for changing society and making it better. But you have relied, for the most part, on external means to accomplish such changes. You have spoken of extending or limiting the powers of government, of socialism, of anarchy, of education, of selective breeding. But you have not spoken of the Spirit and the Life, or not in the sense in which I would wish to speak of them. MacCarthy, indeed, I remember, used the words ‘the life of the spirit.’ But I could not well understand what he meant, except that he hoped to attain it by violence, and in that way what I would seek and value cannot be fur­thered. Coryat, again, and Harrington spoke of the good life. But Coryat seemed to think that any and all life is good. The line of division which I see everywhere he did not see at all, the line between the children of God and the children of the world. I could not say with him that there is a natural goodness in life as such, only that any honest occupation will be good if it be practiced by a good man. It is not wealth that is needed, nor talents, nor intellect. These things are gifts that may be given or withheld. But the one thing needful is the spirit of God, which is given free­ly to the poor and the ignorant who seek it. Believing this, I can­not but disagree, also, with Harrington. For the life of which he spoke is the life of this world. He praises power, and wisdom, and beauty, and the excellence of the body and the mind. In these things, he says, the good life consists. And since they are so rare and difficult to attain, and need for their fostering, natural ap­titudes, and leisure and wealth and great position, he concludes that the good life is possible only for the few; and that to them the many should be ministers. And if the goods he speaks of be really such, he is right; for in the things of the world what one takes, another must resign. If there are rulers there must be subjects; if there are rich, there must be poor: if there are idle men there must be drudges. But the real Good is not thus exclusive. It is open to all, and the more a man has of it the more he gives to others. That good is the love of God, and through the love of God the love of man. These are old phrases, but their sense is not old; rather it is always new. For it is eternal. Now, as of old, in the midst of science, of business, of invention, of the multifarious confusion and din and hurry of the world, God may be directly per­ceived and known. But to know Him is to love Him, and to love Him is to love His creatures, and most of all our fellow men, to whom we are nearest and most akin, and with and by whom we needs must live. And if that love were really spread abroad among us, the questions