I
ESCAPE
All the best stories in the world are but one story in reality--the
story of an escape. It is the only thing which interests us all and
at all times--how to escape. The stories of Joseph, of Odysseus, of
the prodigal son, of the Pilgrim's Progress, of the "Ugly
Duckling," of Sintram, to name only a few out of a great number,
they are all stories of escapes. It is the same with all love-
stories. "The course of true love never can run smooth," says the
old proverb, and love-stories are but tales of a man or a woman's
escape from the desert of lovelessness into the citadel of love.
Even tragedies like those of OEdipus and Hamlet have the same
thought in the background. In the tale of OEdipus, the old blind
king in his tattered robe, who had committed in ignorance such
nameless crimes, leaves his two daughters and the attendants
standing below the old pear-tree and the marble tomb by the sacred
fountain; he says the last faint words of love, till the voice of
the god comes thrilling upon the air:
"OEdipus, why delayest thou?"
Then he walks away at once in silence, leaning on the arm of
Theseus, and when at last the watchers dare to look, they see
Theseus afar off, alone, screening his eyes with his hand, as if
some sight too dreadful for mortal eyes had passed before him; but
OEdipus is gone, and not with lamentation, but in hope and wonder.
Even when Hamlet dies, and the peal of ordnance is shot off, it is
to congratulate him upon his escape from unbearable woe; and that
is the same in life.
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