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SUMMARY OF CHAPTER 9, PART 2
KEY PASSAGES FROM CHAPTER 9, Part 2
The Grumbler
“That was one of the most dreadful things that happened to me; I’ve been dying to tell you because I felt sure you’d tell me I acted rightly; no, wait a moment, dear, till I’ve told you. I tried living with her when I first came and it was all fixed up, she was to do the cooking and I was to look after the house and I did think I was going to be comfortable after all I’d been through but she turned out to be so changed, absolutely selfish, and not a particle of sympathy for anyone but herself, and as I once said to her ‘I do think I’m entitled to a little consideration because you at least lived out your time, but I oughtn’t to have been here for years and years yet…I was murdered, simply murdered, dear, that man should never have operated, I ought to be alive today and they simply starved me in that dreadful nursing home and no one ever came near me and . . .” The shrill monotonous whine died away as the speaker, still accompanied by the bright patience at her side, moved out of hearing.
“I am troubled, Sir,” said I, “because that unhappy creature doesn’t seem to me to be the sort of soul that ought to be even in danger of damnation. She isn’t wicked: she’s only a silly, garrulous old woman who has got into a habit of grumbling, and one feels that a little kindness, and rest, and change would put her all right…””The whole question is whether she is now a grumbler.” “I should have thought there was no doubt about that!””Aye, but ye misunderstand me. The question is whether she is a grumbler, or only a grumble. If there is a real woman, even the least trace of one, still there inside the grumbling, it can be brought to life again. If there’s one wee spark under all those ashes, we’ll blow it till the whole pile is red and clear. But if there’s nothing but ashes we’ll not go on blowing them in our own eyes forever. They must be swept up.”
“But how can there be a grumble without a grumbler?” “The whole difficulty of understanding Hell is that the thing to be understood is so nearly Nothing. But ye’ll have had experiences . . . it begins with a grumbling mood, and yourself still distinct from it: perhaps criticising it. And yourself, in a dark hour, may will that mood, embrace it. Ye can repent and come out of it again. But there may come a day when you can do that no longer. Then there will be no “you” left to criticise the mood, nor even to enjoy it, but just the grumble itself going on forever like a machine.”
Appreciation of Beauty
“Perhaps it was because of his presence that my other senses also appeared to be quickened. I noticed scents in the air which had hitherto escaped me, and the country put on new beauties. There was water everywhere and tiny flowers quivering in the early breeze. Far off in the woods we saw the deer glancing past, and, once a sleek panther came purring to my companion’s side.”
The Vamp
“She appeared to be contorting her all but invisible face and writhing her smoke-like body in a quite meaningless fashion. At last I came to the conclusion, incredible as it seemed, that she supposed herself still capable of attracting [the Bright Spirits] and was trying to do so. She was a thing that had become incapable of conceiving conversation save as a means to that end. If a corpse already liquid with decay had arisen from the coffin, smeared its gums with lipstick, and attempted a flirtation, the result could not have been more appalling. In the end she muttered “Stupid creatures,” and turned back to the bus. This put me in mind to ask my Teacher what he thought of the affair with the Unicorns. “It will maybe have succeeded,” he said. “Ye will have divined that he meant to frighten her; not that fear itself could make her less a Ghost, but if it took her mind a moment off herself, there might be a chance. I have seen them saved so.”
Know-it-alls on Hell
“We met several Ghosts that had come so near to Heaven only in order to tell the Celestials about Hell. Indeed this is one of the commonest types. Others, who had perhaps been (like myself) teachers of some kind actually wanted to give lectures about it: they brought fat notebooks full of statistics, and maps, and (one of them) a magic lantern. Some wanted to tell anecdotes of the notohad met below. But the most part seemed to think that the mere fact of having contrived for themselves so much misery gave them a kind of superiority. “You have led a sheltered life!” they bawled. “You don’t know the seamy side. We’ll tell you. We’ll give you some hard facts”–as if to tinge Heaven with infernal images and colours had been the only purpose for which they came. All, so far as I could judge from my own exploration of the lower world, were wholly unreliable, and all equally incurious about the country in which they had arrived. They repelled every attempt to teach them, and when they found that nobody listened to them they went back, one by one, to the bus.”
Haters of Goodness and Joy
I saw other grotesque phantoms in which hardly a trace of the human form remained; monsters who had faced the journey to the bus …and come up to [this] country and limped far into it over the torturing grass, only to spit and gibber out in one ecstasy of hatred their envy and…their contempt, of joy. The voyage seemed to them a small price to pay if only once, within sight of that eternal dawn, they could tell the prigs, the toffs, the sanctimonious humbugs, the snobs, the “haves,” what they thought of them.” ”
“I have seen that kind converted,” said my Teacher, “when those ye would think less deeply damned have gone back. Those that hate goodness are sometimes nearer than those that know nothing at all about it and think they have it already.
The Famous Artist
“God!” said the Ghost, glancing round the landscape. “God what?” asked the Spirit. “What do you mean, ‘God what’?” asked the Ghost. “In our grammar God is a noun.” “Oh-I see. I only meant ‘By Gum’ or something of the sort. I meant . . . well, all this. It’s . . . it’s … I should like to paint this.” “I shouldn’t bother about that just at present if I were you.” “Look here; isn’t one going to be allowed to go on painting?” “Looking comes first.” “But I’ve had my look. I’ve seen just what I want to do. God!-I wish I’d thought of bringing my things with me!” The Spirit shook his head, scattering light from his hair as he did so. “That sort of thing’s no good here,” he said. “What do you mean?” said the Ghost. “When you painted on earth-at least in your earlier days-it was because you caught glimpses of Heaven in the earthly landscape. The success of your painting was that it enabled others to see the glimpses too. But here you are having the thing itself. It is from here that the messages came. There is no good telling us about this country, for we see it already. In fact we see it better than you do.” “Then there’s never going to be any point in painting here?” “I don’t say that. When you’ve grown into a Person (it’s all right, we all had to do it) there’ll be some things which you’ll see better than anyone else. One of the things you’ll want to do will be to tell us about them. But not yet. At present your business is to see. Come and see. He is endless. Come and feed.” There was a little pause. “T””How soon do you think I could begin painting?” it asked. The Spirit broke into laughter. “Don’t you you’ll never paint at all if that’s what you’re thinking about?” he said. “What do you mean?” asked the Ghost. “Why, if you are interested in the country only for the sake of painting it, you’ll never learn to see the country.” “But that’s just how a real artist is interested in the country.” “No. You’re forgetting,” said the Spirit. “That was not how you began. Light itself was your first love: you loved paint only as a means of telling about light.” “Oh, that’s ages ago,” said the Ghost. “One grows out of that. Of course, you haven’t seen my later works. One becomes more and more interested in paint for its own sake.” “One does, indeed. I also have had to recover from that. It was all a snare. Ink and catgut and paint were necessary down there, but they are also dangerous stimulants. Every poet and musician and artist, but for Grace, is drawn away from love of the thing he tells, to love of the telling till, down in Deep Hell, they cannot be interested in God at all but only in what they say about Him. But if there is any of that inflammation left it will be cured when you come to the fountain.” “What fountain’s that?” “It is up there in the mountains,” said the Spirit. “Very cold and clear, between two green hills. A little like Lethe [river of forgetfulness in Hades]. When you have drunk of it you forget forever all proprietorship in your own works. You enjoy them just as if they were someone else’s: without pride and without modesty.” “That’ll be grand,” said the Ghost without enthusiasm.”“Shal”Well, of course I’ve only been here a few years. All the chances are against my having run across them . . . there are a good many of us, you know.” “But surely in the case of distinguished people, you’d hear?” “But they aren’t distinguished, no more than anyone else. Don’t you understand? The Glory flows into everyone, and back from everyone: like light and mirrors. But the light’s the thing.”
“Do you mean there are no famous men?” “They are all famous. They are all known, remembered, recognised by the only Mind that can give a perfect judgment.” “Of, of course, in that sense . . .” said the Ghost. “Don’t stop,” said the Spirit, making to lead him still forward. “One must be content with one’s reputation among posterity, then,” said the Ghost.
“My friend,” said the Spirit. “Don’t you know?” “Know what?” “That you and I are already completely forgotten on the Earth? You couldn’t get five pounds for any picture of mine or even of yours in Europe or America to-day. We’re dead out of fashion.”
“I must be off at once,” said the Ghost. “Let me go! Damn it all, one has one’s duty to the future of Art. I must go back to my friends. I must write an article. There must be a manifesto. We must start a periodical. We must have publicity. Let me go. This is beyond a joke!”
THEMES IN CHAPTER 9, Part 2
1. Grumbling and complaining are spiritually dangerous habits that when practiced continually become an addiction that we can no longer control but which controls us instead.
The whole difficulty of understanding Hell is that the thing to be understood is so nearly Nothing. But ye’ll have had experiences . . . it begins with a grumbling mood, and yourself still distinct from it: perhaps criticising it. And yourself, in a dark hour, may will that mood, embrace it. Ye can repent and come out of it again. But there may come a day when you can do that no longer. Then there will be no you left to criticise the mood, nor even to enjoy it, but just the grumble itself going on forever like a machine.”
Do everything without complaining and arguing, so that no one can criticize you. Live clean, innocent lives as children of God, shining like bright lights in a world full of crooked and perverse people.(Phil. 2:14-15 NLT)
2. Appreciation of Beauty is enhanced by the company of a wiser companion.
Perhaps it was because of his presence that my other senses also appeared to be quickened.
Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise. (Prov. 13:20)
3. Obsession with sexual seduction can become an addiction that destroys your humanity.
She was a thing that had become incapable of conceiving conversation save as a means to that end.
Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body. (I Cor. 6:18) He who commits adultery lacks sense; he who does it destroys himself. (Prov. 6:32)
4. Glorying in the corruption of Hell deadens you to the desirability of Heaven.
[They] seemed to think that the mere fact of having contrived for themselves so much misery gave them a kind of superiority, …as if to tinge Heaven with infernal images and colours had been the only purpose for which they came. All were…equally incurious about the country in which they had arrived. They repelled every attempt to teach them.” When tempted, no one should say, “God is tempting me.” For God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does He tempt anyone. But each one is tempted when by his own evil desires he is lured away and enticed. Then after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death. (James 3:13-15) So they are without excuse. For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and creeping things. (Romans 1:20-23)
5. Seeing yourself as a victim and embracing bitterness and hatred leads to contempt for Goodness and Joy.
{They came] up to [this] country and limped far into it over the torturing grass, only to spit and gibber out in one ecstasy of hatred their envy and…their contempt, of joy. The voyage seemed to them a small price to pay if only once, within sight of that eternal dawn, they could tell the prigs, the toffs, the sanctimonious humbugs, the snobs, the “haves,” what they thought of them.”
Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath! Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil. For the evildoers shall be cut off, but those who wait for the Lord shall inherit the land. (Ps. 37:8-9) See to it that no one fails to obtain the grace of God; that no “root of bitterness” springs up and causes trouble, and by it many become defiled. (Hebrews 12:15)
6. The true purpose of Art and the artist is to give glimpses of the glory and beauty of Heaven because of his love for them, not because of his love of the craft or of fame.
When you painted on earth-at least in your earlier days-it was because you caught glimpses of Heaven in the earthly landscape. The success of your painting was that it enabled others to see the glimpses too. They serve at a sanctuary that is a copy and shadow of what is in heaven. This is why Moses was warned when he was about to build the tabernacle: “See to it that you make everything according to the pattern shown you on the mountain.” (Hebrews 8:5) Whatever you do, do your work heartily, as for the Lord rather than for men.(Col. 3:23)
HOW LOVELY IS THY DWELLING PLACE
Johannes Brahms
How lovely is thy dwelling place, O Lord of hosts!
For my soul, it longeth, yea fainteth for the courts of the Lord.
My soul and body crieth out, yea for the living God.
O blest are they that dwell in thy house:
they praise thy name evermore.
“Wie lieblich sind deine Wohnungen“, Psalm 84, from German Requiem
