JOHN HENRY NASH 
 
PAN'S PIPES 
 
 R L s 
 
 M D C C C C X 
 
1 HE world in which we live has 
 been variously said and sung by 
 the most ingenious poets and 
 philosophers : these reducing it 
 to formulae and chemical ingre- 
 dients, those striking the lyre in 
 high-sounding measures for the 
 handiwork of God. What expe- 
 rience supplies is of a mingled 
 
tissue, and the choosing mind 
 has much to reject before it can 
 get together the materials of a 
 theory. Dew and thunder, de- 
 stroying Attila and the Spring 
 lambkins, belong to an order of 
 contrasts which no repetition can 
 assimilate. There is an uncouth, 
 outlandish strain throughout the 
 web of the world, as from a vexa- 
 tious planet in the house of life. 
 Things are not congruous and 
 wear strange disguises : the con- 
 summate flower is fostered out 
 of dung, and after nourishing 
 itself awhile with heaven's deli- 
 cate distillations, decays again 
 
into indistinguishable soil; and 
 with Caesar's ashes, Hamlet tells 
 us, the urchins make dirt pies 
 and filthily besmear their counte- 
 nance. Nay, the kindly shine of 
 summer, when tracked home with 
 the scientific spyglass, is found 
 to issue from the most portentous 
 nightmare of the universe the 
 great, conflagrant sun : a world 
 of hell's squibs, tumultuary, roar- 
 ing aloud, inimical to life. The 
 sun itself is enough to disgust a 
 human being of the scene which 
 he inhabits; and you would not 
 fancy there was a green or habi- 
 table spot in a universe thus aw- 
 
fully lighted up. And yet it is by 
 the blaze of such a conflagration, 
 to which the fire of Rome was 
 but a spark, that we do all our 
 fiddling, and hold domestic tea- 
 parties at the arbour door. 
 
 The Greeks figured Pan, the 
 godof Nature,now terribly stamp- 
 ing his foot, so that armies were 
 dispersed ; now by the woodside 
 on a summer noon trolling on his 
 pipe until he charmed the hearts 
 of upland ploughmen. And the 
 Greeks, in so figuring, uttered the 
 last word of human experience. 
 To certain smoke-dried spirits 
 matter and motion and elastic 
 
aethers, and the hypothesis of 
 this or that other spectacled pro- 
 fessor, tell a speaking story ; but 
 for youth and all ductile and con- 
 genial minds, Pan is not dead, 
 but of all the classic hierarchy 
 alone survives in triumph ; goat- 
 footed, with a gleeful and an an- 
 gry look, the type of the shaggy 
 world : and in every wood, if you 
 go with a spirit properly pre- 
 pared, you shall hear the note of 
 his pipe. 
 
 For it is a shaggy world, and 
 yet studded with gardens; where 
 the salt and tumbling sea re- 
 ceives clear rivers running from 
 
among reeds and lilies; fruitful 
 and austere ; a rustic world ; sun- 
 shiny, lewd, and cruel. What is 
 it the birds sing among the trees 
 in pairing- time? What means 
 the sound of the rain falling far 
 and wide upon the leafy forest? 
 To what tune does the fisherman 
 whistle, as he hauls in his net at 
 morning, and the bright fish are 
 heaped inside the boat? These 
 are all airs upon Pan's pipe ; he 
 it was who gave them breath in 
 the exultation of his heart, and 
 gleefully modulated their outflow 
 with his lips and fingers. The 
 coarse mirth of herdsmen, shak- 
 
ing the dells with laughter and 
 striking out high echoes from the 
 rock ; the tune of moving feet in 
 the lamplit city, or on the smooth 
 ball-room floor; the hooves of 
 many horses, beating the wide 
 pastures in alarm; the song of 
 hurrying rivers ; the colour of 
 clear skies ; and smiles and the 
 live touch of hands ; and the 
 voice of things, and their signifi- 
 cant look, and the renovating in- 
 fluence they breathe forth these 
 are his joyful measures, to which 
 the whole earth treads in choral 
 harmony. To this music the 
 young lambs bound as to a tabor, 
 
and the London shop-girl skips 
 rudely in the dance. For it puts 
 a spirit of gladness in all hearts ; 
 and to look on the happy side of 
 nature is common, in their hours, 
 to all created things. Some are 
 vocal under a good influence, 
 are pleasing whenever they are 
 pleased, and hand on their hap- 
 piness to others, as a child who, 
 looking upon lovely things, looks 
 lovely. Some leap to the strains 
 with unapt foot, and make a halt- 
 ing figure in the universal dance. 
 And some, like sour spectators 
 at the play, receive the music in- 
 to their hearts with an unmov- 
 
ed countenance, and walk like 
 strangers through the general re- 
 joicing. But let him feign never 
 so carefully, there is not a man 
 but has his pulses shaken when 
 Pan trolls out a stave of ecstasy 
 and sets the world a-singing. 
 
 Alas, if that were all ! But oft- 
 entimes the air is changed ; and 
 in the screech of the night wind, 
 chasing navies, subverting the 
 tall ships and the rooted cedar of 
 the hills ; in the random deadly 
 levin or the fury of headlong 
 floods, we recognize the "dread 
 foundation" of life and the anger 
 in Pan's heart. Earth wages open 
 
war against her children, and un- 
 der her softest touch hides treach- 
 erous claws. The cool waters in- 
 vite us in to drown ; the domestic 
 hearth burns up in the hour of 
 sleep, and makes an end of all. 
 Everything is good or bad, help- 
 ful or deadly, not in itself, but 
 by its circumstances. For a few 
 bright days in England the hur- 
 ricane must break forth and the 
 North Sea pay a toll of populous 
 ships. 
 
 And when the universal mu- 
 sic has led lovers into the paths 
 of dalliance, confident of Nat- 
 ure's sympathy, suddenly the air 
 
shifts into a minor, and death 
 makes a clutch from his ambus- 
 cade below the bed of marriage. 
 For death is given in a kiss ; the 
 dearest kindnesses are fatal ; and 
 into this life, where one thing 
 preys upon another, the child too 
 often makes its entrance from the 
 mother's corpse. It is no wonder, 
 with so traitorous a scheme of 
 things, if the wise people who cre- 
 ated for us the idea of Pan thought 
 that of all fears the fear of him 
 was the most terrible, since it em- 
 braces all. And still we preserve 
 the phrase : a panic terror. To 
 reckon dangers too curiously, to 
 
hearken too intently for the threat 
 that runs through all the winning 
 music of the world, to hold back 
 the hand from the rose because 
 of the thorn, and from life be- 
 cause of death : this it is to be 
 afraid of Pan. Highly respectable 
 citizens who flee life's pleasures 
 and responsibilities and keep, 
 with upright hat, upon the mid- 
 way of custom, avoiding the 
 right hand and the left, the ecs- 
 tasies and the agonies, how sur- 
 prised they would be if they 
 could hear their attitude mytho- 
 logically expressed, and knew 
 themselves as tooth-chattering 
 
ones, who flee from Nature be- 
 cause they fear the hand of Nat- 
 ure's God ! Shrilly sound Pan's 
 pipes ; and behold the banker 
 instantly concealed in the bank 
 parlour! For to distrust one's 
 impulses is to be recreant to Pan. 
 There are moments when the 
 mind refuses to be satisfied with 
 evolution, and demands a rud- 
 dier presentation of the sum of 
 man's experience. Sometimes the 
 mood is brought about by laugh- 
 ter at the humorous side of life, 
 as when, abstracting ourselves 
 from earth, we imagine people 
 plodding on foot, or seated in 
 
ships and speedy trains, with 
 the planet all the while whirling 
 in the opposite direction, so that, 
 for all their hurry, they travel 
 back-foremost through the uni- 
 verse of space. Sometimes it 
 comes by the spirit of delight, 
 and sometimes by the spirit of 
 terror. At least, there will always 
 be hours when we refuse to be 
 put off by the feint of explana- 
 tion, nicknamed science ; and de- 
 mand instead some palpitating 
 image of our estate, that shall 
 represent the troubled and uncer- 
 tain element in which we dwell, 
 and satisfy reason by the means 
 
of art. Science writes of the 
 world as if with the cold finger of 
 a starfish ; it is all true ; but what 
 is it when compared to the real- 
 ity of which it discourses? where 
 hearts beat high in April, and 
 death strikes, and hills totter in 
 the earthquake, and there is a 
 glamour over all the objects of 
 sight, and a thrill in all noises for 
 the ear, and Romance herself has 
 made her dwelling among men? 
 So we come back to the old myth, 
 and hear the goat-footed piper 
 making the music which is itself 
 the charm and terror of things ; 
 and when a glen invites our vis- 
 
king footsteps, fancy that Pan 
 leads us thither with a gracious 
 tremolo ; or when our hearts 
 quail at the thunder of the cata- 
 ract, tell ourselves that he has 
 stamped his hoof in the nigh 
 thicket. 
 
PUBLISHED BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN 
 COMPANY : BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 
 
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