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Updated: June 5, 2025
It isn't merely the question of a few forts changing hands or a few miles of blood-soaked ground lost and won." "I wonder," said Gertrude dreamily, "if some great blessing, great enough for the price, will be the meed of all our pain? Is the agony in which the world is shuddering the birth-pang of some wondrous new era? Or is it merely a futile
Now I to Herakles cleave right willingly, among high deeds of valour rousing an ancient tale; how that when from his mother's womb the son of Zeus escaping the birth-pang came quickly into the glorious light with his twin-brother, not unobserved of Hera did he put on the saffron swaddling bands; but the queen of gods in the kindling of her anger sent presently the two snakes, and they when the doors were opened went right on into the wide bedchamber, hasting to entwine the children, that they should be a prey to their fierce teeth.
No life that ever was could be worth such a price as this! It was a cheat, a horror there could be no justice in such a thing! There could be no God in it it was oppression, it was wrong! He thought of the millions that swarmed on the earth they had all come from this! And it was happening every hour every second! He saw it, the whole of it the age-long agony, the universal birth-pang of being.
She had forgotten her cousin and the present circumstances, for her thoughts were with a sailor at sea. One tremendous moment of savage joy gripped her heart, but the primitive passion perished in its birth-pang and left her cold and faint and ashamed. She wondered from what unknown, unsecured corner of her soul the vile thing came.
If it were fitting to pour thank-offerings for any death, 'twere just, nay, more than just, to offer such for him, so mighty was the bowl of curses he filled up in his home, then came and drank them up himself to the dregs." To their solemn warning that she would herself be cut off, banished and hated, she replies: "He slew my child, my dearest birth-pang, to charm the Thracian winds.
For, all that sleepless, cruel, and soul-killing pain, and all that shameful and humbling corruption, all that means, all that is, so much holiness, so much heaven, working itself out in the soul. All that is so much immortal life, spotless beauty, and incorruptible joy already begun in the soul. Every such pang in a holy heart is a death-pang of another sin and a birth-pang of another grace.
This is the fundamental thought at the root of most revolutions and reformations and revivals, and the thought is therefore a necessary and a just one. Unfortunately it seems to be an inevitable condition of human affairs that nothing new, however necessary or good can come into being out of the old, without much sorrow and many a birth-pang.
Here I sit gossiping about it. But I am tired out. The writing of a book is like the bearing of a child. But every birth-pang of the former lasts for hours; and it is months before the labor is done. It is not merely the vision, the hour of exultation; that is but the setting of the task.
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