EPILOGUE MOUNT PISGAH
Reading edition
It is stated that the historian, Lecky, O.M. (I assisted at the operation of his receiving the Order of Merit) gave more thought and time to the book of his last years, “The Map of Life,” than to any other of all his works, and it is said that for three years he kept on revising the last of its chapters.
The book was derided to me by a literary friend of great eminence as being “The Pap of Life!” I read its last chapters with great avidity. If for nothing else, the book is worthy of immortality for the reason that it so emphasises those great words of Dryden as being appropriate to the close of a busied life—
“Not Heaven itself upon the past has Power, What has been has been, and I have had my hour.”
Whenever (as I often do) I pass Dryden’s bust in Westminster Abbey I invariably thank him for those lines.
Mr. Lecky urges his readers to leave the active scenes of life in good time and not to “Lag superfluous on the Stage” (I believe Mr. Gladstone recommended this also, but didn’t do it!).
To illustrate Mr. Lecky we have that great and splendid Trio of Translation to Heaven at the very zenith of their powers. Elijah was hurrying along (that great, hairy, weird old man) so that Elisha could hardly keep pace with him, and he is suddenly caught up in a Chariot of Fire to Heaven! I ask, “Was not Nelson’s leaving this earth quite a similar glorious departure?”
“Partial firing continued until 4.30 p.m. when a victory having been reported to Admiral Lord Viscount Nelson, K.B., and Commander-in-Chief, he THEN died of his Wound.”
Moses (with whom I am now more particularly concerned) also left this life in a similar glorious way, for God was his companion when his Spirit left this Earth, and it markedly is recorded of Moses that—
“His eye was not dim, Nor his natural force abated!”
Mr. Lecky doesn’t quote my three men above. I consider them superior to Noah, Daniel and Job, who are the three named in Scripture as being so dear to the pious man. Ezekiel, chapter xiv., verse 14.
I reiterate that the advice of the derided Lecky seems to me excellent, to leave active life at one’s zenith, and thus anticipate senility.
The Archbishop of Seville is a lovely story by Cervantes. All Spain came to hear him preach. Indeed he had to preach every day, the crowds were so great, and he said to his faithful Secretary: “Tell me when you notice me waning, for a man never knows it himself.” The Secretary did so, and the Archbishop gave him the sack! Yes! The Archbishop had passed the Rubicon, and this dismissal was the proof. Having this fear, I left Office on my birthday in 1910, though for a few short months in 1914 I enjoyed the “dusky hues of glorious war,” and exceedingly delighted myself in those seven months in arranging a new Armada against Germany of 612 vessels, and in sending Admiral von Spee and all his ships to the bottom of the sea.
The following much-prized lines were sent me on the Annihilation of Admiral von Spee’s Squadron off the Falkland Islands on December 8th, 1914. He had sunk Admiral Cradock’s Squadron five weeks before. The “Dreadnought” Battle Cruisers, “Inflexible” and “Invincible,” sent to sink von Spee, made a passage of 14,000 miles without a hitch and arrived just a few hours before von Spee. It was a timely arrangement:—
From the President of Magdalen College, Oxford, Sir Herbert Warren (Professor of Poetry).
Merserat Ex-spe Spem, rediit spes, mergitur Ex-spes.
“Von Spee sent the ‘Good Hope’ to the bottom: hope revived; he is sunk himself, without hope.”
From Mr. Godley, the Public Orator at Oxford University.
Hoc tibi Piscator Patria debet opus.
“Your country owes this exploit to you, O Fisher!”
But that Great Providence, that shapes our course, rough hew it how we will, ordained my departure from the conduct of the War. Amongst the masses of regretful letters at my departure I choose one from an Admiral then 88 years old, who satisfies the great Dr. Weir Mitchell’s dictum of the clear brain becoming clearer with age. This Admiral annexed a Continent for England, abounding in riches in New Guinea; but he got no thanks; and England gave away his gift. But his name lives there. I conclude with his letter:—
Dear Old Fisher,
It is marvellous how all variations of our lives are unravelled by Divine Inspiration that cannot err.
“No one can ‘hustle’ Providence.” (That’s one of your sayings!) Think of Moses!
“He was the truest warrior that ever buckled sword. He the most gifted Poet that ever breathed a word: And never Earth’s Philosopher traced with his golden pen, On the Deathless Page, truths half so sage as he wrote down for men; Yet no man knows his sepulchre, and no man saw it e’er, For the Angels of God up-turned the sod and laid the Dead Man there.”
Moses saved his people. He prepared them for the conquest in which he was to take no part. He was the meekest man on earth, yet he could be the most ruthless!
Doubtless you saved England at the Falkland Islands.
Doubtless you prepared our Fleet for this war! (Nothing to boast of! You the clay in the hands of the Potter!) And it seems likely that some Joshua will reap what you have sown! Yet history will put it right.
“O lonely grave in Moab’s land! O dark Beth-Peor’s hill! Speak to these curious hearts of ours and teach them to be still!”
Ever faithfully yours, (Signed) J. Moresby.