while his need was to change the
circumambient air of thought and action into something better than it
was; and for such change he must associate him with the lives he fain
would help. Arthur brooded and dreamed, and saw the Christ, and then
conceived his worthiest service to be to interpret the What he heard
and Whom he saw to men; and in pursuance of such purpose he lived with
knights, ladies, soldiers, and countrymen. Him they saw and knew.
"St. Simeon Stylites" is an application of another side of the same
thought. Heroism is in this pillar saint, but a mistaken heroism. He
stands,

"A sign betwixt the meadow and the cloud."

But to what purpose? Hear him call,

"I smote them with the cross,"

and feel assured from such a word that he who spoke, had he been where
the battle raged, had left his stroke on many a shield; for his words
have the crash of a Crusader's ax. What a loss it was to men that St.
Simeon came not down from his pillar, clothed himself, made himself
clean and wholesome, instead of filthy and revolting, and dwelt with
people for whom Christ died. A religious recluse is a religious
ignoramus, since he does not know that the one-syllable word in the
vocabulary of Christ is, "Be of use." The problem of living, as Arthur
saw vividly, was not how to get yourself through the world unhurt, but
how to do the most for some one besides yourself while you are in the
world; and this attitude is otherness, altruism. Nurture strength to
use. Pass your might on. Knighthood was to serve everybody else
first, after the fashion of the Founder of knighthood, even Christ,
"who came, not to be ministered unto, but to minister." King Arthur
served. Play battles stung him not to prowess, but, as Lancelot saw,
in the actual battle, the hero was not Lancelot, but Arthur. May be a
too deep seriousness was in him. I think it probable. He had been
more masterful in wielding men had he been colored more by laughter and
jest. We must not take ourselves, nor yet the world, with too
continuous seriousness. There are intervals between battles when
warriors may rest, and intervals in the stress of deeds and sorrow
where room is given for the caress and wholesome jest. That
arch-jester, Jack Falstaff, had much reason with him. We like him,
despite himself, and despite ourselves, because there was in him such
comradery. Though he was boisterous, yet was he jovial. All
characters, save Christ, have limi