EXPRESSION

Strange to say, the eyes of children, whose minds are so small, express intelligence better than do the greater number of adult eyes.  David Garrick’s were evidently unpreoccupied, like theirs.  The look of intelligence is outward—­frankly directed upon external things; it is observant, and therefore mobile without inner restlessness.  For restless eyes are the least observant of all—­they move by a kind of distraction.  The looks of observant eyes, moving with the living things they keep in sight, have many pauses as well as flights.  This is the action of intelligence, whereas the eyes of intellect are detained or darkened.

Rational perception, with all its phases of humour, are best expressed by a child, who has few second thoughts to divide the image of his momentary feeling.  His simplicity adds much to the manifestation of his intelligence.  The child is the last and lowest of rational creatures, for in him the “rational soul” closes its long downward flight with the bright final revelation.

He has also the chief beauty of the irrational soul of the mind, that is, of the lower animal—­which is singleness.  The simplicity, the integrity, the one thing at a time, of a good animal’s eyes is a great beauty, and is apt to cause us to exaggerate our sense of their expressiveness.  An animal’s eyes, at their best, are very slightly expressive; languor or alertness, the quick expectation, even the aloofness of doubt they are able to show, but the showing is mechanical; the human sentiment of the spectator adds the rest.

All this simplicity the child has, at moments, with the divisions and delicacies of the rational soul, also.  His looks express the first, the last, and the clearest humanity.  He is the first by his youth and the last by his lowliness.  He is the beginning and the result of the creation of man.

UNDER THE EARLY STARS

Play is not for every hour of the day, or for any hour taken at random.  There is a tide in the affairs of children.  Civilization is cruel in sending them to bed at the most stimulating time of dusk.  Summer dusk, especially, is the frolic moment for children, baffle them how you may.  They may have been in a pottering mood all day, intent upon all kinds of close industries, breathing hard over choppings and poundings.  But when late twilight comes, there comes also the punctual wildness.  The children will run and pursue, and laugh for the mere movement—­it does so jog their spirits.

What remembrances does this imply of the hunt, what of the predatory dark?  The kitten grows alert at the same hour, and hunts for moths and crickets in the grass.  It comes like an imp, leaping on all fours.  The children lie in ambush and fall upon one another in the mimicry of hunting.

The sudden outbreak of action is complained of as a defiance and a rebellion.  Their entertainers are tired, and the children are to go home.  But, with more or less of life and fire, they strike some blow for liberty.  It may be the impotent revolt of the ineffectual child, or the stroke of the conqueror; but something, something is done for freedom under the early stars.