REPORT ON COMPETITION NO. 28

READERS were invited to state which of six specified famous historical characters they would most like to have been and

to give their reasons in not more than 300 words. This was an extremely interesting competition to judge, and the entries

were almost all of a high standard of merit. Of the six characters given, Wesley was the most often chosen, 29 per cent. of competitors voting for him. Socrates came next with 25 per cent. ; 16 per cent. chose Wren, 12 per cent. the Prince Consort ; Dr. Johnson and Charlemagne came last with 9 per cent. each. The most ingenious entry came from Dr. J. H. Shackleton Bailey, who solved the problem with a neat statistical method:

Let us suppose that the three chief factors in the making of a great life are (i) success in achieving a lofty aim, (2) personal happiness, (3) benefit conferred on mankind. To each of these a figure may be assigned representing the length, breadth and height of a cuboid whose volume then can be taken as represent- ing the life evaluation of the great man under consideration. A table thus constructed might, in the opinion of the writer—for it is impossible to eliminate the personal equation—show the following result :

(4 (2) (3) Volume

1. Charlemagne

to 7 9 63o 2. Wesley 8 6 to 48o 3. Socrates 7 8 7 392 4. Wren 6 to 5 3oo 5. Johnson 6 5 4 120 6. Prince Consort 4 4 4 64 Another much more personal method of evaluation might make the decision depend upon how far each of these six famous men realised one's own conception of an ideally interesting and profit- able life. A Wesleyan would then naturally plump for his own hero. On the other hand, a university don might prefer Socrates, a politician Charlemagne, or an artist Wren. A happy Benedict might even award the Prince Consort the foremost place on his list.

At the other end of the scale from this impersonal technique was Miss E. M. Keate, M.B.E., whose very interesting entry began as follows :

Of all the historical characters mentioned for choice in this competition, Sir Christopher Wren stands out for me, partly, no doubt, because I was brought up in one of the great buildings connected with his name—Hampton Court Palace—and I wrote the current Official Guide to the Palace. Perhaps I may add that I smoked my first (surreptitious) cigarette, at the age of fifteen, in the room where he died, at Court House, on Hampton Court Green.

Christopher Wren was also the choice of Towanbucket whose brilliant entry would certainly have won first prize if literary merit was the only thing to be taken into con- sideration ; but delightful though his verses are, some of the reasons with which he supports his choice might seem a little thin if expressed in humble prose. Three competitors—

Miss D. N. Daglish, whose chose Dr. Johnson, Mr. Kenneth Home and Mr. James Turner, both of whom chose Wesley, and for almost exactly the same reasons—stood out as approaching and solving the problem in the most rational way. It was very difficult to choose between them, but we eventually decided that the first prize should go to Miss Daglish and the second to Mr. Turner. There were at least ten other competitors whose entries we should have liked to have been able to print.

First Prize.

• DR. JOHNSON.

Had I lived in the eighteenth century, I presume my tempera- ment would be the same as it is today, and therefore my admiration for Dr. Johnson would have been as great. I envy him for not being the slave of the divided mind. To honour and obey authority, to clear the mind of cant, was easier for him than it is for the modern who happens to be torn between Liberal humani- tarianism and orthodox Christianity with all its hardness. Inclined to indulge in what Chesterton called " the weak defence of every- thing," I gaze wistfully (and, I suppose, would have gazed just as wistfully a century and a half ago) at a fine mind which can be compassionate without going to extremes of whitewashing. As an unsuccessful writer, I would have been inspired by the sight of a man becoming eminent after years of unrewarded drudgery, and being naturally slothful I would have gloried in being able to share the failing with so great a man—if the publicity of the time allowed Johnson's personal secrets to be spread abroad. I would have been so delighted with his remarks on Shakespeare that I would have longed to identify myself with the author. Johnson does not strike one as a happy man, and it is happiness which most of us envy ; but he was a man ever aiming at progress, purification, unity, and that goal is at all times admirable.

D. N. DAGLISH.

Second Prize. JOHN WESLEY.

I had no doubt in my mind. John Wesley was easily my choice. For he• lived as full a life as it was possible, a life crowded with interest. He was never bored, never idle, and always at peace inwardly. He was sure that his life was a real contribution to the world's happiness. He knew that the Gospel he preached set men's hearts right. He saw with his own eyes men made new, homes made supremely happy. Wesley knew that people every- where were hungry for the message he had to give. He had a deep and an abiding satisfaction that his message could not be seriously challenged, and he had no fear of what man could do unto him. His message meant life, abundant life, and it was his constant joy to proclaim it. He was sure of God, and his burning faith scattered the doubts of men.

To be able to leave the deepest impression—and an impression of lasting good—on the eighteenth century is an achievement that one cannot but envy. John Wesley was easily the most outstand- ing beneficent figure of that century. Think also of the organisa- tion he left behind—a vast church that stands for the highest possible principles. The Methodist Church was his creation. Every part of the British Isles, and many other parts of the world today feel the influences of that holy man of God—John Wesley. His name is revered in countless homes.

What a life! What an achievement! Yes, I would rather have been John Wesley than any other great character in history. JAMES TURNER. Commended.

SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN.

In good King Charles's golden days When London was a wen, sir, There lived a man beyond all praise Whose name was Dr. Wren, sir.

A skilful, merry soul was he By all the best conjecture, As busy as a working bee With life and architecture.

And this is true, that I'll affirm: If I were born agen, sir, I'd gladly live another term To be Sir Christopher Wren, sir.

How fine, like him, to deal with calls When out with men a-dining, By leaving word that new St. Paul's He was engaged designing!

How grand to wear a rich, laced coat, With beaver hat and tassel ;

And get an envious colleague's goat Re-building Windsor Castle!

To see the slums of London Town, I've often had the leisure,

But watching London's slums burn down—

I envy Wren that pleasure!

And though his fine new schemes were wrecked

By County Council banning, He had, I seem to recollect, A gorgeous time town-planning.

His low beginnings I deplore: He was a mere professor ; And I prefer to take the floor With him as P.R.S., sir.

In lighter moments, Nellie Gwynn May possibly have kissed him ; Or, hearing he was not within, Sam. Pepys may just have missed him.

I'd like to live his length of days And die, like him, deserving The note of universal praise The ages were reserving.

To leave those testaments of stone In lovely grace ascending— I'd give my life without a groan To reach that happy ending. TowAnsucaarr.