^ Hercules, the fabled deliverer of Greece, always wore on head and shoulders the skin of a lion killed in his first adventure, which Euskin thus interprets : " Every man's Nemean lion lies in wait for him somewhere It is the first ugly and strong enemy that rises against us, all future victory depending on victory over that. Kill it; and through all the rest of Life, what once was dreadful is your armour, and you are clothed with that conquest for every other, and helmed with its crest of fortitude for evermore. Alas, we have most of us to walk bareheaded." ^
3. And is it not a blessed fact ? Think how different it would all have been if this fact had not been true from the beginning, if man had been able to settle comfortably into sin and be content. Men read it as a curse, this first declaration of God in Genesis, after the Fall. Is it not r'ather a blessing ? Man had met Satan. Then God said, " Since you have met him, the only thing which I can now do for you, the only salvation that I can give you, is that you never shall have peace with one another. You may submit to serve him, but the instinct of rebellion shall never die out in your heart." It was the only salvation left. It is the only salvation left now when a man has begun to sin, that God should perpetually forbid him to be at peace in sinning. It is what has saved earth from becoming hell long ago — this blessed decree of God that, however man and sin might live together, there should always be enmity between them, they should be natural foes for ever. No man has ever yet been bold enough, even in any mad dream of poetry, to picture the reconciliation of the seed of the serpent and the seed of the woman, man's perfect satisfaction in sin, as the consummation and perfect close of human history.
^ There is an Indian fable that a swan came down to the shore one day, where a crane was feeding. This bird had never seen a swan before, and asked him where he came from. " I came ^ Rnskin, Queen of the Air, § 178. GEN.-NUM. — 7
98 THE CONFLICT OF THE AGES
from heaven," said the swan. Said the crane, " I never heard of such a place. Where is it ? " " Far away ; far better than this place," said the swan. The old crane listened to the swan, and at last said, " Are there snails there ? " The swan drew itself up with indignation. " Well," said the crane, " you can have your heaven then. I want snails." ^
^ There is an awful possibility of giving over prayer, or coming to think that the Lord's ear is heavy that He cannot hear, and His arm shortened that He cannot save. There is a terrible significance in this passage, which we quote from a recent book : " Old Mr. Westfield, a preacher of the Independent persuasion in a certain Yorkshire town, was discoursing one Sunday with his utmost eloquence on the power of prayer. He suddenly stopped, passed his hands slowly over his head — a favourite gesture — and said in dazed tones : * I do not know, my friends, whether you ever tried praying ; for my part, I gave it up long ago as a bad job.' The poor old gentleman never preached again. They spoke of the strange seizure that he had in the pulpit, and very cheer- fully and kindly contributed to the pension which the authorities of the chapel allowed him. I knew him five-and-twenty years ago — a gentle old man addicted to botany, who talked of anything but spiritual experiences. I have often wondered with what sudden flash of insight he looked into his own soul that day, and saw himself bowing down silent before an empty shrine." ^
^ In the great Church of the Capuchins at Rome there is a famous picture, by Guido Eeni, of the Archangel Michael triumph- ing over the Evil One. The picture represents the Archangel clad in bright armour and holding in his hand a drawn sword, with one foot planted upon the head of Satan, who in the form of a dragon or serpent grovels and writhes beneath him. A sense of victory, not unmingled with defiance, shines on the Archangel's face ; while Satan's every feature is distorted with suffering and hatred. And as we look at the picture, we can hardly fail to see in it the image, the representation, so often depicted, so earnestly longed for, of the final victory of good over evil. What, however, to many at any rate, gives to this picture a peculiar interest is the famous criticism passed upon it in a well-known modern work of fiction, Hawthorne's Transfiguration. The Archangel — so it is there objected — has come out of the contest far too easily. His appearance and attitude give no idea of the death-struggle which always takes place before vice can be overcome by virtue. His sword should have been streaming with blood ; his armour dented
> L. A. Banks, The King's Stewards, 281. » W. E. Nicoll, The Garden of Nuta, 224.