He has been dead nearly two hundred
years, and his violins now bring fabulous prices. George Eliot, in one
of her poems, puts some noble words into the mouth of the old man.
Speaking of the masters who will play on his violins, he says:--
"While God gives them skill,
I give them instruments to play upon,
God choosing me to help him."
Referring to another violin-maker, his rival, he says:--
"But were his the best,
He could not work for two.
My work is mine,
And, heresy or not, if my hand slacked,
I should rob God--since he is fullest good--
Leaving a blank instead of violins.
I say, not God himself can make man's best
Without best men to help him.
* * * * * *
'Tis God gives skill,
But not without men's hands.
He could not make
Antonio Stradivari's violins
Without Antonio."
At first reading these words may indeed seem heretical and irreverent,
but they are not. It is true, indeed, that even God cannot do our work
without us, without our skill, our faithfulness. If we fail or do our
little duty negligently, there will be a blank or a blur where there
ought to have been something beautiful. As another says, "The universe
is not quite perfect without my work well done."
One man is a carpenter. God has called him to that work. It is his
duty to build houses, and to build them well.
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