Invictus and Pelagius

It's hard to know what made people from history actually tick, so affording a Pelagian mindset to W.E. Henley is, perhaps, a bit uncharitable of me.

Henley was a poet and teacher and literary editor of the late 19th century, whose own life was full of grief and difficulty. For example, he had tuberculosis of the bone which led to the amputation of one leg below the knee. And he was hospitalized for 3 years because of an infection in the one good foot he had left. It was only thanks to the nascent theories of Lister that he managed to avoid losing his only remaining leg.

Then there was the case of his little daughter, Margaret who died at age 5, and who was the inspiration for Barrie's book "Peter Pan" and the seminal author of the name "Wendy", coined for the book, when she used the term "fwendy-wendy" of the visiting Barrie.

Henley was a great bear of a man, a red-headed whirlwind and a force of nature who inspired the one-legged Long John Silver of his friend W.L. Stevenson's "Treasure Island". Throughout his vocation as and editor he was a contemporary and a friend of many, including T.E. Brown, R.L. Stevenson and R. Kipling. He died at 53 in 1903.

Recently, his poem "Invictus" was re-popularized in the movie of the same name, starring Matt Damon and Morgan Freeman. It is also said the the poem was kept in his cell by Nelson Mandela during his long incarceration.

All this brings me to the question of whether it is the indomitable human spirit, or the broken and contrite man that God regards. Is it the "I can do it" mentality that is fruitful for eternity or the "God can do it through me" mindset that is truly beautiful? Was Pelagius right or does Augustine's view of grace hold true? Judge for yourselves...

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever Gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishment the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of may soul.


W. E. Henley