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Master of the Vineyard

<h2 class="gap3 chaphead">XXII</h2> <h2 class="chaphead">Each to his Own Work</h2> <div class="sidenote">Alden Writes to Edith</div> "Heart's Dearest: It was two months ago to-day that you went away, and to me it has been eternity. Every day and every hour I think of you, sometimes with such intense longing that it seems as though the air before me must take shape and yield you to my arms. "I have been working hard, and—no, I will not say 'trying to forget,' since memory, upon the dull background of my commonplace existence has set one great blazing star. I would not, if I could choose, go back to one hour that did not hold you, but rather would I pray for Time to stand still for us at any one of his jewelled moments upon the dial, when you and I were heart to heart. "Mysteriously you have made everything right for me, denied all things though we are. After ten years of struggle with the vineyard, with several conspicuous failures and now and then a half-hearted success, I have at last rejoiced Mother's heart—and my own as well[Pg 316]—with the largest crop within my memory or hers. The fruit, too, has been finer than ever before. <div class="sidenote">Drudgery</div> "The school, also, which I have hated ever since I had it, begins to appear before me in a new light. It is not only those dull and stupid children who are to learn lessons in that one-roomed schoolhouse—it is I. While they struggle with the alphabet and multiplication-table and the spelling of words in four syllables, their teacher has before him invaluable opportunities to acquire patience, self-control, and a sense of justice, if not to inspire affection. "Before, I went my way in sullen discontent. Because I could not do the things I wanted to do, I disdained the humble tasks assigned me, forgetting that in the great scheme of things each one of us has his work. Some of us must scrub floors, others carry bricks or mortar, and others must grow grapes and teach school. "I had thought, in my blindness, that the great things were the easiest to do, but now I see that drudgery is an inseparable part of everything worth while, and the more worth while it is, the more drudgery is involved. "In years gone by I have given time to the vineyard, but nothing at all of myself. I held myself aloof and apart while Duty, like a stern taskmaster, urged me to the things I hated, merely to please Mother, who had done[Pg 317] so much for me that she had the right to demand this. <div class="sidenote">No Longer Apart</div> "This year I have put my heart into my work. When failure seemed imminent, I have laboured with fresh courage. I have remembered, too, that the tools with which I worked were human beings like myself, and not so many mere machines. "My love for you has been the magic key that has unlocked the doors dividing me from my fellow-men. No longer isolated, no longer apart, I am one of a brotherhood that claims fellowship with all humanity. One blood flows uninterruptedly through us all, one heart beats in us all, and, truly seen, we are not separate individuals, but only component parts of the Greater Self. "Once I was absorbed in myself. Now I yearn unspeakably toward all with whom I come in contact. I see a thousand ways in which I may be kind. It is not for me to preach the gospel of love and understanding, but to live it, and, in living it, either to lead or to follow, as may be right and best. "Hitherto I have kept away from the workers in the vineyard as much as I possibly could. Some of them have come for five years in succession, and I neither remembered their faces nor knew their names. Now, not because I felt that it was my duty, but because I really wanted to, I have tried to come a[Pg 318] little closer, to see into their lives as best I might. <div class="sidenote">The Humble Toilers</div> "I have seen before me such dramas of suffering and love as have made me ashamed, more than once, of my own worthless life and my own vain repinings. These humble toilers in my vineyard had come nearer the truth of things than I had, and were happier. Night after night I have been glad of the shelter of the darkness and have moved back out of the circle of light made by the camp-fire, that none of them might see my face. "One woman, too weak and ill to work, would lie down among the vines to rest, while her husband filled her basket from his own. They needed money for a crippled child who could be made right by an expensive operation. One night I saw a lantern moving back and forth among the vines, and when I went out to investigate, the man was hard at work, filling basket after basket, because he knew that it was not right to draw two people's pay without doing two people's work. "He had done this every night, and sometimes, too, the woman had spent her limited strength labouring beside him. Both were nearly heartbroken, having figured up that, at the rate the work was being done, they would still be twenty dollars short of the desired sum. So I gave them this, and they are to return it when they can. If it is not possible to return[Pg 319] it earlier, they are to come next year and work it out. I have no fear that they will not come, but, even should they fail me, I would rather lose the money and have my trust betrayed, than to miss a chance of helping where I might. <div class="sidenote">A Feast for the Workers</div> "One man had been saving for years that he might send to Italy for his wife and children. His earnings would give him a little more than the amount he needed, and he was counting the days until he could put his plan into execution. He could neither read nor write, so, one night, by the camp-fire, I wrote his letter for him, in my best schoolmaster's hand, for the first time finding my scanty knowledge of Italian of some real use. "We have always given them a feast when the work was over, and sent some trifling presents to the wives and children who had remained behind. This was for our own sake, however, and not in any sense for theirs. It has been hard to get people to come, and we wanted to offer inducements. "This time I sat at the head of the table myself. We had songs and stories and much good cheer. Afterward, when I said good-night, they all came to shake hands with me and say 'Thank you.' It was the first time. "One man who lives in a crowded district in the city, has a wife who has tuberculosis. The remainder of the family consists of a daughter of fourteen and a boy of nine. He[Pg 320] is to come back and bring them with him. They are to have the best of the workers' houses, on the pine hill above the vineyard. On a cot, in the clean cold air, the mother will get well again if it is possible for her to get well. I have work enough around the place for the man, the boy can go to school, and the Lady Mother will train the daughter in the ways of housewifery. In the evenings I shall teach her to read and write. <div class="sidenote">Passing On</div> "We have swept our attic clean of things we had stored away. We have given not only what we do not need, but what we can do without. This winter, when the North wind howls down the chimney, while I am sheltered and warm, it will afford me satisfaction to know that my useless garments are, at last, doing good service somewhere. "Mother, too, has caught the spirit of it. I cannot tell you of the countless things she has sent away—bedding, clothes, shoes, furniture, food—everything. I do not know why the workers' shacks around the vineyard should remain idle practically all the time—there must be others in damp cellars in that crowded city who have become diseased, and who could be healed by the pure cold air up among my ancestral pines. I will see what can be done. "These people who come to my vineyard are, as it were, the connecting link between me and the outer world. I had thought there[Pg 321] was nothing for me to do here, and behold, there is so much to be done that I scarcely know where to begin. And this work has been at my very door, as it were, for ten years, and I have not seen it. Next year, I think I shall have a night school for two hours each evening after work. Many of them are pathetically eager to learn and have no opportunity to do so. <div class="sidenote">A Strange Dream</div> "The night the workers all went back to the city, I had a strange dream which now seems significant. I thought I was in a great factory, somewhere, that was given over to the weaving of cloth. It was well equipped, there were innumerable orders waiting to be filled, and there were plenty of people to work, but nothing was being done. "The floor was covered with rubbish, the windows were thick with dust and cobwebs; where there were artificial lights they were flickering disagreeably because they were choked with dirt; the machinery creaked abominably, and the air of the place was foul beyond description. Meanwhile orders accumulated, but the people stood around and complained. Some of them were gathered in groups, arguing; others sat on dusty benches, singly or by twos, with discontented, unhappy faces. Some were angry, and others only hopeless, staring straight ahead, with eyes that did not see.[Pg 322] <div class="sidenote">No One Satisfied</div> "It seemed that no one was satisfied with his lot, and each was eager to change with someone else, who also wanted to change, but not with him. The women whose duty it was to scrub floors wanted to work at the looms, but those at the looms aspired to the big airy room where the bolts of cloth were measured and rolled up. "The men who had been told to wash windows wanted to make patterns, the man in charge of the ventilating apparatus wanted to work in the office, and the man who was in charge of the office, weary and jaded beyond all power of words to portray, wanted a place at the loom and a pay-envelope every Saturday night instead of a commission upon his sales. "Those who were supposed to weave blue cloth with white dots upon it wanted to make white cloth with blue dots upon it, but, it seemed, there was no market for the white cloth with the blue dots and they could not be made to understand it. "The boy who attended to the door of the factory wanted to keep books in the office; the men who were supposed to work in the shipping room wanted to cut out the samples that were sent to different firms to order from. The girls who wrote letters and filed the correspondence wanted to draw designs for new patterns—oh, a great many wanted to draw designs![Pg 323] <div class="sidenote">The Spirit of Love</div> "The man who did the designing was complaining of a headache, and wanted to be doorkeeper, that he might have plenty of fresh air. The man who was supposed to oil the machinery wanted to wash the windows—he said it was a cleaner job; and the messengers were tired of going back and forth all day—they wanted to sit quietly and write letters. "Suddenly an imperious voice called out: 'Each to his own work!' They hesitated for a moment, then obeyed, and presently everything was changed. From confusion and disorder it resolved itself into perfect harmony, for each one was doing his own work and doing it well. "And, as they worked, the Spirit of Love came among them and the workers began to sing at their tasks. Each one did not only his own work but helped his neighbour with his. They became eager to do all they could instead of as little as they might and still escape censure, and the face of each one was shining with joy. "When I awoke I was saying aloud: 'Each to his own work!' For some time I did not know it was only a dream, but gradually the meaning of it became clear. Edith, did you ever stop to think that the millennium could be brought about in less than one hour, if each did his own work well and in a spirit of love? It is we ourselves who are out of har[Pg 324]mony, not things as they are, and, having once attained harmony, everything will become right. <div class="sidenote">Joy through Service</div> "And so, beloved, my love for you has been as a great light in my soul. I need no more than to give it without ceasing, and to renew, through human service, not only my love for you, but the love for all which leads to brotherhood. "I have come to see that joy comes through what we give, not through what we take; happiness through serving, not through being served; and peace through labour, not rest. "I thought, at first, that I loved you, but it seems to have grown a hundred-fold. No barriers may divide us from one another, nor earth with all its seas sunder us apart, for through love has come union, not only with you but the whole world. "And so, good-night—heart of my heart, life of my life, and soul of my soul. "A. M." <hr style="width: 45%;" /> "Dear and Ever Dearer: "Your letter lies against my heart where I feel it with every rising breath. I, too, have longed for you, a thousand times, and in a thousand ways. "Always as the tide of the night turns, I wake and think of you. When through the darkness comes no response, I smile to myself,[Pg 325] knowing you are asleep, then I sleep also. But sometimes, in an instant, the darkness becomes alive and throbs with eager messages, as love surges from my heart to yours and from yours to mine. <div class="sidenote">The Open Door</div> "I, too, have come into the way of service, of brotherhood. It may seem a strange thing to write, or even to say, but you, who have never failed to understand me, will understand this. I never cared so much for my husband as I do now; I was never less conscious of myself, never more eager to ask nothing and give all. And, through this change in me has come about a change in him. Instead of each of us selfishly demanding what we conceive to be our 'rights,' each strives unselfishly to please the other—to see who can give the most. "You have taken nothing away that belongs to anyone else, dear—the love I bear you is yours alone, but, through it, I have some way more to give; he is the richer, because of you. "Like you, I have seen before me a multitude of openings, all leading, through ways of self-sacrifice, to the sure finding of one's self. The more love you give, the more you have; it is, in a way, like the old legend of the man who found he could take to Heaven with him only those things which he had given away. "All around me I see the pitiful mistakes that masquerade as marriage—women who have no virtues save one tied like millstones[Pg 326] to some of earth's noblemen; great-hearted and great-souled women mated with clods. I see people insanely jealous of one another, suspicious, fault-finding, malicious; covertly sending barbed shafts to one another through the medium of general conversation. As if love were ever to be held captive, or be won by cords and chains! As if the freest thing on earth would for a moment enter into bondage, or minister unto selfishness when it is, of itself, unselfishness! Passion-slaved and self-bound, they never see beyond their own horizon, nor guess that the great truths of life and love lie just beyond their reach. <div class="sidenote">A Plea for Rosemary</div> "Looking back, I can see one thing that you may have missed. This love of ours has brought joy to you and to me, and, indirectly, happiness to my husband. It has not affected your mother, one way or another, but it has hurt Rosemary—taken away from her the one thing that made her sordid life worth while. "Dear, can't you see your way clear to make it right with her—to give back at least as much as she had before I came into your life? You will take nothing from me by doing so, for my place with you is secure and beyond the reach of change, as you know yours is with me. "But, just because the full moon has risen upon midnight, shall we refuse to look at the stars? Believe me, all the lesser loves have[Pg 327] their rightful place, which should be more definitely assured because of the greater light. <div class="sidenote">Rosemary's Need</div> "I am pleading not only for her, but for you. Tell her everything, if you choose, or if you feel that you must in order to be honest. I am sure you can make her understand. "The door of the House of Life is open for you and for me, but it is closed against her. It is in your power at least to set it ajar for her; to admit her, too, into full fellowship through striving and through love. "She will help you with your vineyard people, and, perhaps, come to peace that way. Her unhappy face as I saw it last haunts me—I cannot help feeling that I am in some way responsible. She needs you and what you can give her, more, perhaps, than I, who shall never have it again. "Never! The word, as I write it, tolls through my consciousness like a funeral knell. Never to see your face again, or to touch your hand, or to hear you say you love me. Never to feel your arms holding me close, your heart beating against mine, never to thrill with ecstasy in every fibre of me in answer to your kiss. "Only the silence, broken, perhaps, by an occasional letter, and the call in the night, bridging the darkness and distance between us, to be answered for one little hour by love, surging from one to the other and back again.[Pg 328] <div class="sidenote">Caught in a Web</div> "And yet these thoughts of ours are as a weaver's shuttle, plying endlessly through the web of night and space and time. One thought may make a slender thread, indeed, but what of the countless thoughts that fly back and forth, weaving and interweaving as they go? Shall they not make first a thread, and then a cord, then a web, and then a fabric, until, at last, there is no separation, but that of the body, which counts for naught? "Dear Heart, you mean so much to me, are so much. From you and from your love for me I take fresh courage every day. From your strength I make sure of my own strength, from your tenderness I gather compassion, and from your steadfastness I gain the hope that leads me onward, the belief that enables me to face each day bravely and with a smile. "Deep in my heart, I hold fast to one great joy. Sometimes I close the door quickly upon it and bar up the passage, lest anyone should guess that there, within a bare white chamber, is erected the high altar of my soul, where the lights shine far into the shadows, in spite of rock-hewn portals, closed and barred. "The knowledge of your love I have with me always, to steady me, to guide me, to uplift me, to make even a grave warm and sweet. And to you, with my own hands, I have brought the divine fire that shall not[Pg 329] fail, so what more need we ask of God, save that somewhere, sometime, in His infinite compassion, we may be together, even though it may be in the House not Made with Hands? <div class="sidenote">Edith to Alden</div> "Remember that I long for you, dream of you, hope for you, believe in you, pray for you, and, above all else, love you, love you—love you. And in all the ways of Heaven and for always, I am thine. "E." [Pg 330] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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