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A Rough Shaking
It was a day when everything around seemed almost everything
does, now and then, come nearly right for a moment or two, preparatory
to coming all right for good at the last. It was the third week in
June. The great furnace was glowing and shining in full force, driving
the ship of our life at her best speed through the ocean of space. For
on deck, and between decks, and aloft, there is so much more going on
at one time than at another, that I may well say she was then going at
her best speed, for there is quality as well as rate in motion. The
trees were all well clothed, most of them in their very best. Their
garments were soaking up the light and the heat, and the wind was
going about among them, telling now one and now another, that all was
well, and getting through an immense amount of comfort-work in a
single minute. It said a word or two to myself as often as it passed
me, and made me happier than any boy I know just at present, for I was
an old man, and ought to be more easily made happy than any mere
beginner.
I was walking through the thin edge of a little wood of big trees,
with a slope of green on my left stretching away into the sunny
distance, and the shadows of the trees on my right lying below my
feet. The earth and the grass and the trees and the air were together
weaving a harmony, and the birds were leading the big orchestra--which
was indeed on the largest scale. For the instruments were so
different, that some of them only were meant for sound; the part of
others was in odour, of others yet in shine, and of still others in
motion; while the birds turned it all as nearly into words as they
could. Presently, to complete the score, I heard the tones of a man's
voice, both strong and sweet. It was talking to some one in a way I
could not understand. I do not mean I could not understand the
I was too far off even to hear them; but I could not understand how
the voice came to be so modulated. It was deep, soft, and musical,
with something like coaxing in it, and something of tenderness, and
the intent of it puzzled me. For I could not conjecture from it the
age, or sex, or relation, or kind of the person to whom the words were
spoken. You can tell by the voice when a man is talking to himself; it
ought to be evident when he is talking to a woman; and you can,
surely, tell when he is talking to a child; you could tell if he were
speaking to him who made him; and you would be pretty certain if he
was holding communication with his it made me feel strange that I
could not tell the kind of ear open to the gentle manly voice saying
things which the very sound of them made me long to hear. I confess to
hurrying my pace a little, but I trust with no improper curiosity, to
see--I cannot say the interlocutors, for I had heard, and still heard,
only one voice.
does, now and then, come nearly right for a moment or two, preparatory
to coming all right for good at the last. It was the third week in
June. The great furnace was glowing and shining in full force, driving
the ship of our life at her best speed through the ocean of space. For
on deck, and between decks, and aloft, there is so much more going on
at one time than at another, that I may well say she was then going at
her best speed, for there is quality as well as rate in motion. The
trees were all well clothed, most of them in their very best. Their
garments were soaking up the light and the heat, and the wind was
going about among them, telling now one and now another, that all was
well, and getting through an immense amount of comfort-work in a
single minute. It said a word or two to myself as often as it passed
me, and made me happier than any boy I know just at present, for I was
an old man, and ought to be more easily made happy than any mere
beginner.
I was walking through the thin edge of a little wood of big trees,
with a slope of green on my left stretching away into the sunny
distance, and the shadows of the trees on my right lying below my
feet. The earth and the grass and the trees and the air were together
weaving a harmony, and the birds were leading the big orchestra--which
was indeed on the largest scale. For the instruments were so
different, that some of them only were meant for sound; the part of
others was in odour, of others yet in shine, and of still others in
motion; while the birds turned it all as nearly into words as they
could. Presently, to complete the score, I heard the tones of a man's
voice, both strong and sweet. It was talking to some one in a way I
could not understand. I do not mean I could not understand the
I was too far off even to hear them; but I could not understand how
the voice came to be so modulated. It was deep, soft, and musical,
with something like coaxing in it, and something of tenderness, and
the intent of it puzzled me. For I could not conjecture from it the
age, or sex, or relation, or kind of the person to whom the words were
spoken. You can tell by the voice when a man is talking to himself; it
ought to be evident when he is talking to a woman; and you can,
surely, tell when he is talking to a child; you could tell if he were
speaking to him who made him; and you would be pretty certain if he
was holding communication with his it made me feel strange that I
could not tell the kind of ear open to the gentle manly voice saying
things which the very sound of them made me long to hear. I confess to
hurrying my pace a little, but I trust with no improper curiosity, to
see--I cannot say the interlocutors, for I had heard, and still heard,
only one voice.
328 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1890
13 people are currently reading
119 people want to read
About the author
George MacDonald
1,770 books2,514 followersGeorge MacDonald was a Scottish author, poet and Christian Congregational minister. He became a pioneering figure in the field of modern fantasy literature and the mentor of fellow-writer Lewis Carroll. In addition to his fairy tales, MacDonald wrote several works of Christian theology, including several collections of sermons.
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
December 12, 2018
Animals obey him. Adults fear him. Clare’s history is unique from his childhood, where his parents were lost in an earthquake while they were abroad with him. Taken in by an elderly couple who had always longed for a child, Clare’s innocence and purity makes is community marvel. When tragedies begin to strike, Clare must fend for himself and the somewhat random conglomeration of beings that attach themselves to him. He is full of wisdom and insight far beyond his years—sometimes unrealistically so. He is admirable but not real or relatable. However, this is typical of MacDonald, painting a world of “what-ifs”—what if people loved as purely as Clare? What if more people exhibited his brand of courage?
I was interested in the number of instances where Clare fled. My usual instinct is to weather circumstances, sometimes obstinately. Lol. Clare, however, picks up at a moment’s notice when he perceives deep wrong-doing, abandoning personal connection, convenience, and provision. I’m not sure if I admire this as wisdom or question it as giving up. Had he been one of MacDonald’s characters who was entrenched in a life of obedience to the Father, I would have had less questioning in this, because I would have trusted that he was trusting the Father’s leadings. It is a subtle implication, but Clare’s heavenly connection is definitely implicit.
MacDonald lovers will appreciate the character and world that he creates where purity coexists with the “normal” world. However, the beginning is a bit out of place, so just get through the first chapter to get to the heart of Clare’s story.
I was interested in the number of instances where Clare fled. My usual instinct is to weather circumstances, sometimes obstinately. Lol. Clare, however, picks up at a moment’s notice when he perceives deep wrong-doing, abandoning personal connection, convenience, and provision. I’m not sure if I admire this as wisdom or question it as giving up. Had he been one of MacDonald’s characters who was entrenched in a life of obedience to the Father, I would have had less questioning in this, because I would have trusted that he was trusting the Father’s leadings. It is a subtle implication, but Clare’s heavenly connection is definitely implicit.
MacDonald lovers will appreciate the character and world that he creates where purity coexists with the “normal” world. However, the beginning is a bit out of place, so just get through the first chapter to get to the heart of Clare’s story.
December 31, 2014
I love all of George Macdonald's books, including the unspoken sermons. This book tells a story about a boy named Clare. How I grew to love him as I read along. He seems to be the model of what the Lord is referring to when He says that we must become like little children to enter the kingdom of God. I was so moved and challenged. I also like the spiritual insights and truths the author put in throughout the story. I'll miss the animals --Nimrod, Abdiel, Pummy, and Panther.
February 19, 2012
This is the tale of an orphaned boy who wanders the earth in abject poverty, facing a long string of injustices that would turn many people into unhappy, embittered souls. But not Clare! The argument could be made that some of George MacDonald's protagonists are too glorious to be believable. This could be considered true of Clare. Until he takes root in our hearts for the purity of his soul and we encounter him later in one of the most striking scenes in the entire book. It is certainly my favourite.
Readers familiar with George MacDonald know how he loves children and often features them prominently in his stories. In this scene, we are introduced to Clare's fondness for children. A little girl, upon meeting Clare for the first time, recognizes in him the One she has been waiting for all of her life. Below is the passage which introduces us to Clare as a Messiah image, which immediately eases the difficulty in accepting his almost-too-good-to-be-true character representation.
"But Clare, to whom childhood was the strongest attraction he yet knew, bent down his face from where he stood on the step above her, and its moonlight glow of love and faith shone clear in the eyes of the little girl. The moment she saw his smile, she knew the soul that was the light of the smile, and her doll dropped from her hands as she raised them to lay her arms gently about his neck.
"Oh!" she said, "you're come!" He saw now, in the dusk, a pale, ordinary little face, with rather large gray eyes, a rather characterless, tiny, up-turned nose, and a rather pretty mouth. "Yes, little one. Were you expecting me?" he returned, with his arms about her. "Yes," she answered, in the tone of one stating what the other must know. "How was it I frightened you, then?" "Only at first I thought you was an ogre! That was before I saw you. Then I knew!" "Who told you I was coming?" "Nobody. Nobody knew you was coming but me. I've known it--oh, for such a time!--ever since I was born, I think!" She turned her head a little and looked down where the doll lay a step or two below. "You can go now, dolly," she said. "I don't want you any more . . .
The child was lonely. She had done her best with her doll, but it had failed her. It was not companionable. The moment she looked in Clare's face, she knew that he loved her, and that she had been waiting for him! She was not surprised to see him; how should it be otherwise than just so! He was come: good bye, dolly! The child had imagination - next to conscience the strongest ally of common sense. She knew, like St. Paul, that an idol is nothing. As men and women grow in imagination and common sense, more and more will sacred silly dolls be cast to the moles and the bats. But pretty Fancy and limping Logic are powerful usurpers in commonplace minds".
MacDonald also introduces us in this book to his view on the eternal souls of animals - a theme which is found in some of his other writings and which betrays his obvious love for animals and helps explains his vigorous advocacy for fair treatment of animals. In the following excerpt, MacDonald has one of his characters offer a defense for his belief that we will see our animals in heaven.
"Do you think, Mr. Gowrie," he rejoined, answering my unpropounded question, "that a God like Jesus Christ, would invent such a delight for his children as the society and love of animals, and then let death part them for ever? I don't." "I am heartily willing to be your disciple in the matter," I replied. "I know well," he resumed, "the vulgar laugh that serves the poor public for sufficient answer to anything, and the common-place retort: 'You can't give a shadow of proof for your theory!'--to which I answer, 'I never was the fool to imagine I could; but as surely as you go to bed at night expecting to rise again in the morning, so surely do I expect to see my dear old Memnon (the man's horse) again when I wake from what so many Christians call the sleep that knows no waking.' Think, Mr. Gowrie, just think of all the children in heaven - what a super-abounding joy the creatures would be to them! There is one class, however," he went on, "which I should like to see wait a while before they got their creatures back; I mean those foolish women who, for their own pleasure, so spoil their dogs that they make other people hate them, doing their best to keep them from rising in the scale of God's creation." (I am thinking that perhaps our neighbour, whom we often encounter on our dog walks, may be included in this indictment for her poorly behaved and yappy pink poodle that she is forced to pick up and hold in her arms whenever she encounters other dogs, including ours, on the trail).
Readers familiar with George MacDonald know how he loves children and often features them prominently in his stories. In this scene, we are introduced to Clare's fondness for children. A little girl, upon meeting Clare for the first time, recognizes in him the One she has been waiting for all of her life. Below is the passage which introduces us to Clare as a Messiah image, which immediately eases the difficulty in accepting his almost-too-good-to-be-true character representation.
"But Clare, to whom childhood was the strongest attraction he yet knew, bent down his face from where he stood on the step above her, and its moonlight glow of love and faith shone clear in the eyes of the little girl. The moment she saw his smile, she knew the soul that was the light of the smile, and her doll dropped from her hands as she raised them to lay her arms gently about his neck.
"Oh!" she said, "you're come!" He saw now, in the dusk, a pale, ordinary little face, with rather large gray eyes, a rather characterless, tiny, up-turned nose, and a rather pretty mouth. "Yes, little one. Were you expecting me?" he returned, with his arms about her. "Yes," she answered, in the tone of one stating what the other must know. "How was it I frightened you, then?" "Only at first I thought you was an ogre! That was before I saw you. Then I knew!" "Who told you I was coming?" "Nobody. Nobody knew you was coming but me. I've known it--oh, for such a time!--ever since I was born, I think!" She turned her head a little and looked down where the doll lay a step or two below. "You can go now, dolly," she said. "I don't want you any more . . .
The child was lonely. She had done her best with her doll, but it had failed her. It was not companionable. The moment she looked in Clare's face, she knew that he loved her, and that she had been waiting for him! She was not surprised to see him; how should it be otherwise than just so! He was come: good bye, dolly! The child had imagination - next to conscience the strongest ally of common sense. She knew, like St. Paul, that an idol is nothing. As men and women grow in imagination and common sense, more and more will sacred silly dolls be cast to the moles and the bats. But pretty Fancy and limping Logic are powerful usurpers in commonplace minds".
MacDonald also introduces us in this book to his view on the eternal souls of animals - a theme which is found in some of his other writings and which betrays his obvious love for animals and helps explains his vigorous advocacy for fair treatment of animals. In the following excerpt, MacDonald has one of his characters offer a defense for his belief that we will see our animals in heaven.
"Do you think, Mr. Gowrie," he rejoined, answering my unpropounded question, "that a God like Jesus Christ, would invent such a delight for his children as the society and love of animals, and then let death part them for ever? I don't." "I am heartily willing to be your disciple in the matter," I replied. "I know well," he resumed, "the vulgar laugh that serves the poor public for sufficient answer to anything, and the common-place retort: 'You can't give a shadow of proof for your theory!'--to which I answer, 'I never was the fool to imagine I could; but as surely as you go to bed at night expecting to rise again in the morning, so surely do I expect to see my dear old Memnon (the man's horse) again when I wake from what so many Christians call the sleep that knows no waking.' Think, Mr. Gowrie, just think of all the children in heaven - what a super-abounding joy the creatures would be to them! There is one class, however," he went on, "which I should like to see wait a while before they got their creatures back; I mean those foolish women who, for their own pleasure, so spoil their dogs that they make other people hate them, doing their best to keep them from rising in the scale of God's creation." (I am thinking that perhaps our neighbour, whom we often encounter on our dog walks, may be included in this indictment for her poorly behaved and yappy pink poodle that she is forced to pick up and hold in her arms whenever she encounters other dogs, including ours, on the trail).
November 17, 2016
'Give me a slow, steady boy, who knows when he does not know a thing! To know you do not know, is to be a small prophet.'
Or a small Christian, which is all that George MacDonald would have asked of a child. This novel from his later years nothing short of a young person's guide to being a good Christian, with its hero Clare Skymer a sort of English Huckleberry Finn with superior will power.
We meet him first of all as an old man unusually empathetic towards animals, then our unnamed narrator tells the story of his unfortunate childhood. He lost his parents when just three, buried under a church roof in Italy after an earthquake.
He is adopted on the spot by Mr. and Mrs. Porson, a humble parson and his good wife. They in turn die on him several years later and he finds himself, aged ten, on the tramp and at the mercy of manor of unscrupulous individuals seeking to take advantage of his innocence and good nature. In addition he has to become a surrogate father to a young rascal called Tommy and a baby girl he saves from being drowned.
MacDonald has become one of my favourite authors in recent times and this book, though written with a juvenile readership in mind, was another delight. MacDonald was a preacher as well as an author and his writing reflects this, but never is he heavy-handed or rhetorical, never is he dull.
As MacDonald says of Mr. Porson, so you could say of him: 'the good man never wrote or read a sermon, but talked to his people as one who would meet what was in them with what was in him.'
This is also an excellent book with which to foster a child's innate love of animals. Even children today with the sophisticated menagerie of Pixar creatures to enjoy will love reading about Abdiel the dog, Nimrod the bull and Pummy the Puma.
I certainly did.
Or a small Christian, which is all that George MacDonald would have asked of a child. This novel from his later years nothing short of a young person's guide to being a good Christian, with its hero Clare Skymer a sort of English Huckleberry Finn with superior will power.
We meet him first of all as an old man unusually empathetic towards animals, then our unnamed narrator tells the story of his unfortunate childhood. He lost his parents when just three, buried under a church roof in Italy after an earthquake.
He is adopted on the spot by Mr. and Mrs. Porson, a humble parson and his good wife. They in turn die on him several years later and he finds himself, aged ten, on the tramp and at the mercy of manor of unscrupulous individuals seeking to take advantage of his innocence and good nature. In addition he has to become a surrogate father to a young rascal called Tommy and a baby girl he saves from being drowned.
MacDonald has become one of my favourite authors in recent times and this book, though written with a juvenile readership in mind, was another delight. MacDonald was a preacher as well as an author and his writing reflects this, but never is he heavy-handed or rhetorical, never is he dull.
As MacDonald says of Mr. Porson, so you could say of him: 'the good man never wrote or read a sermon, but talked to his people as one who would meet what was in them with what was in him.'
This is also an excellent book with which to foster a child's innate love of animals. Even children today with the sophisticated menagerie of Pixar creatures to enjoy will love reading about Abdiel the dog, Nimrod the bull and Pummy the Puma.
I certainly did.
July 28, 2018
I found this a lovely narration with a quiet sense of the sovereignty of the Creator and the senselessness of not trusting Him. I was not so much interested in the various adventures of our boy hero as in moments of sympathetic beauty amid the narration.
The storyline: A toddler found amid the rubble of an earthquake is adopted by a clergyman and his wife. When they die in a season of sickness, our boy hero, grounded in foundational principles of acting right and true with all of creation, finds his life a string of mixed adventures of blessing, hardship, and evil. Though he endures pain and suffering, he is unrattled in his sense of calm, convinced that he is "waiting for something" yet to be in his life.
The attitude of calm, peace, and hope through evil and adversity is intriguing. Human-animal relationships also contribute an interesting theme through the story. Sympathetic characters are well-timed along the way.
It is not a preachy tale, unless honesty, rightness, and kindness and a belief in a loving and guiding Creator are preachy. The hero appears to have learned little in the way of Bible theology or of a personal relationship with God. His is an appreciation for the beauty of creation and its creatures; coupled with a simple sense of right and wrong.
(I read the Project Gutenberg free ebook edition.)
The storyline: A toddler found amid the rubble of an earthquake is adopted by a clergyman and his wife. When they die in a season of sickness, our boy hero, grounded in foundational principles of acting right and true with all of creation, finds his life a string of mixed adventures of blessing, hardship, and evil. Though he endures pain and suffering, he is unrattled in his sense of calm, convinced that he is "waiting for something" yet to be in his life.
The attitude of calm, peace, and hope through evil and adversity is intriguing. Human-animal relationships also contribute an interesting theme through the story. Sympathetic characters are well-timed along the way.
It is not a preachy tale, unless honesty, rightness, and kindness and a belief in a loving and guiding Creator are preachy. The hero appears to have learned little in the way of Bible theology or of a personal relationship with God. His is an appreciation for the beauty of creation and its creatures; coupled with a simple sense of right and wrong.
(I read the Project Gutenberg free ebook edition.)
June 17, 2016
A solid Dickensian effort from George MacDonald. While the sentimental Christian romanticizing and overt, knowing philosophizing throughout the book were on occasion grating and even sometimes contradictory to one another, the plot and characters all felt aboundingly fresh and engaging. MacDonald often opens visions of other worlds and better ways of living in our own world, and the visions he casts are better than his attempts to explain the details surrounding them. If you have had success with other MacDonald and you like hard-luck Dickens-type tales, you will enjoy this book.
It also loses one star for having an abrupt ending that I felt left a lot of interesting plot questions unanswered.
It also loses one star for having an abrupt ending that I felt left a lot of interesting plot questions unanswered.
February 20, 2012
The character and conduct of Clare stir up a desire to be like Jesus--a desire we as Christ followers all want to follow till the way we think and live emulates our Lord. This is the best book I've read by MacDonald!
August 4, 2016
This book has a nature-child ideal.... it's has an interesting philosophical response to Voltaire's Candide and the "best of all possible worlds" idea.
June 4, 2022
The book starts off with the author describing how he met Clare (now in his 50-60's). He then goes in to telling us all about Clare's life.
Clare (or Clarence) lost his parents in an earthquake. He was adopted by a clergyman and his wife.
When they too pass away, Clare is taken in by a neighbor, eventually running off with Tommy who is a little thief.
Clare is a perfect child who seems to have never been touched by any corruption in his young life. The whole book is about his journeying as he looks for work, food and shelter and of the adventures he goes through as he meets various people (both good and bad) along the way.
I only gave 3 stars because there were too many loose ends and no real "ending." It was too abrupt, as we never find out how many of the characters turned out.
It was good, but I'd read "Sir Gibbie" which is similar, but better executed.
Content concerns: animal abuse, mild violence, alcohol reference.
Clare (or Clarence) lost his parents in an earthquake. He was adopted by a clergyman and his wife.
When they too pass away, Clare is taken in by a neighbor, eventually running off with Tommy who is a little thief.
Clare is a perfect child who seems to have never been touched by any corruption in his young life. The whole book is about his journeying as he looks for work, food and shelter and of the adventures he goes through as he meets various people (both good and bad) along the way.
I only gave 3 stars because there were too many loose ends and no real "ending." It was too abrupt, as we never find out how many of the characters turned out.
It was good, but I'd read "Sir Gibbie" which is similar, but better executed.
Content concerns: animal abuse, mild violence, alcohol reference.
August 10, 2024
Fabulous ending!
Read this delightful little book. I will read it over again to capture more of the wisdom and goodness of George MacDonald, of our heavenly Father.
Read this delightful little book. I will read it over again to capture more of the wisdom and goodness of George MacDonald, of our heavenly Father.
December 1, 2025
4 stars
Claire has a hard-knock life as tragedy deprives Tim of first one family, then another. Eventually leading him to wander the countryside. In his travels animals are his most frequent companions.
Claire has a hard-knock life as tragedy deprives Tim of first one family, then another. Eventually leading him to wander the countryside. In his travels animals are his most frequent companions.
November 23, 2024
Another amazingly wonderful beautiful story. George Macdonald never fails to move me to tears and wonderful in joy and hopeful sorrow.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews