The crowd laughed.
Eric continued:
A man is composed of three parts—body, mind, and soul. And if the University system continues to teach toward what each is entitled to, it will get the best and truest graduates from the University. When it is realized that they not only store the mind with knowledge, but that they also have to educate the body for the strenuous life it has to go through, and remember that they were of the spirit as well, the University will pass down graduates who are really worthy of taking their place in any field of life.[16]
With the luncheon over, the festivities continued. If Eric had grown weary of the accolades, he would be forced to endure them for a while longer as both he and Sir Alfred Ewing entered a “carriage” pulled by muscled athletes rather than horses. Sir Alfred and Eric were taken to Sir Alfred’s home for afternoon tea.
“Never,” Sir Alfred later said, “have I ever basked in so much reflected glory.”[17]
The next day a dinner was held in Eric’s honor at Mackie’s Dining Salon—an idea that had originated from a group of congratulatory men who had sent Eric a telegram while he was in Paris. Noted theologian and jurist Lord Sands, the provost Sir William Lowrie Sleigh, and Sir Alfred Ewing were all present in the company of more than one hundred distinguished guests.
This was a unique moment in the history of Edinburgh, Scotland. The corporation of the city had surely welcomed and celebrated many worthy guests in the past—soldiers, statesmen, and elite leaders—but this was their first chance to do so with an Olympian. Eric Liddell was, simply put, the finest athlete Scotland had ever produced.
During his keynote address, Lord Sands said,
[I] had always understood that the quarter-mile was one of the most sporting and interesting of races. It was also one of the most gruelling, and it was somewhat remarkable that it happened to be the only Olympic race which had been won by a Scotsman. In these days of moral flabbiness it was something to find a man who was not content to shield himself behind such easy phrases as “It was once in a way” or “When you go to Rome you must do as they do in Rome.”[18]
Lord Sands also arranged for a cablegram to be sent to Eric’s parents in China stating cordial congratulations on “Eric’s wonderful feat, and still more on his noble witness for Christian principles.”[19]
Sir William Sleigh presented Eric with a gold watch inscribed with the arms of the City of Edinburgh and the words “Presented by the Corporation of Edinburgh to Eric H. Liddell, B.Sc., in recognition of his brilliant achievement in winning in record time the 400 metres at the Olympic games—Paris, 1924—W. L. Sleigh, Lord Provost.”[20]
Eric spoke to the assembly in his soft voice, but his character refused to allow him to revel in the limelight. Humility and humor were hallmarks in Eric’s delivery. On arriving at the dinner, he noticed his initials on the program—E. H. L. He said, “My parents had first named me Henry Eric Liddell, but before it became officially registered, a friend suggested to my father that the initials H. E. L. might be rather awkward. This evening would certainly have been an occasion on which they would have been awkward.”[21]
Understanding that those in the room would want him to say something—anything—about his Olympic experience, he shared the story of having received the note in Paris that reminded him of God’s Word in 1 Samuel. “He that honoureth me, I shall honour,” he quoted.
“It was perhaps the finest thing I experienced in Paris, a great surprise and a great pleasure to know there were others who shared my sentiments about the Lord’s day.”[22] Eric spoke a few additional words to remind them of his ultimate goal to return to China as a missionary. In spite of what many may have hoped, he would not make athletics his long-term career. God had made him fast, yes, but God had also made him for China. Decisions of when and specifications of how loomed. He would at some point within the next year depart as a missionary, and he was not sure what the future held exactly for his running during that time. But he was more than content to focus on serving Christ in the mission field.
In closing he asked for their help and prayers. “Thank you very much indeed for giving me such a great honor tonight,” he said.
A perplexed peace infused the gathering. It was as if the time for celebrating had abruptly come to an end, and the page of the Olympics had been turned. It was an unprecedented mood—most men in Eric’s position would have milked the honor he seemed to so easily shun—yet it was salvaged by the possibility that there might at least be one more season to enjoy his running.
The Student did its best to provide words for the utterly astounding deflection of fame:
Success in athletics, sufficient to turn the head of any ordinary man, has left Liddell absolutely unspoilt, and his modesty is entirely genuine and unaffected. He has taken his triumphs in his stride, as it were, and has never made any sort of fuss. What he has thought it right to do, that he has done, looking neither to the left nor to the right, and yielding not one jot or tittle of principle either to court applause or to placate criticism. Courteous and affable, he is utterly free from “gush.” Devoted to his principles, he is without a touch of Pharisaism. The best that can be
