第2章
加入书架 A- A+
点击下载App,搜索"The Story of My Heart",免费读到尾

  Thereisnothinghumaninanylivinganimal。Allnature,theuniverseasfaraswesee,isanti—orultra—human,outside,andhasnoconcernwithman。

  Thesethingsareunnaturaltohim。Bynocourseofreasoning,howevertortuous,cannatureandtheuniversebefittedtothemind。Norcanthemindbefittedtothecosmos。Mymindcannotbetwistedtoit;Iamseparatealtogetherfromthesedesignlessthings。Thesoulcannotbewresteddowntothem。Thelawsofnatureareofnoimportancetoit。Irefusetobeboundbythelawsofthetides,noramIsobound。Thoughbodilyswungroundonthisrotatingglobe,mymindalwaysremainsinthecentre。Notidallaw,norotation,nogravitationcancontrolmythought。

  Centuriesofthoughthavefailedtoreconcileandfitthemindtotheuniverse,whichisdesignless,andpurposeless,andwithoutidea。Iwillnotendeavourtofitmythoughttoitanylonger;I

  findandbelievemyselftobedistinct——separate;andIwilllabourinearnesttoobtainthehighestcultureformyself。Asthesenaturalthingshavenoconnectionwithman,itfollowsagainthatthenaturalisthestrangeandmysterious,andthesupernaturalthenatural。

  Therebeingnothinghumaninnatureortheuniverse,andallthingsbeingultra—humanandwithoutdesign,shape,orpurpose,Iconcludethat,nodeityhasanythingtodowithnature。

  Thereisnogodinnature,norinanymatteranywhere,eitherintheclodsontheearthorinthecompositionofthestars。

  ForwhatweunderstandbythedeityisthepurestformofIdea,ofMind,andnomindisexhibitedinthese。Thatwhichcontrolsthemisdistinctaltogetherfromdeity。Itisnotforceinthesenseofelectricity,noradeityasgod,noraspirit,notevenanintelligence,butapowerquitedifferenttoanythingyetimagined。Icease,therefore,tolookfordeityinnatureorthecosmosatlarge,ortotraceanymarksofdivinehandiwork。Isearchfortracesofthisforcewhichisnotgod,andiscertainlynotthehigherthandeityofwhomIhavewritten。Itisaforcewithoutamind。Iwishtoindicatesomethingmoresubtlethanelectricity,butabsolutelydevoidofconsciousness,andwithnomorefeelingthantheforcewhichliftsthetides。

  Next,inhumanaffairs,intherelationsofmanwithman,intheconductoflife,intheeventsthatoccur,inhumanaffairsgenerallyeverythinghappensbychance。Noprudenceinconduct,nowisdomorforesightcaneffectanything,forthemosttrivialcircumstancewillupsetthedeepestplanofthewisestmind。AsXenophonobservedinoldtimes,wisdomislikecastingdiceanddeterminingyourcoursebythenumberthatappears。Virtue,humanity,thebestandmostbeautifulconductiswhollyinvain。Thehistoryofthousandsofyearsdemonstratesit。InalltheseyearsthereisnomoremovinginstanceonrecordthanthatofDanae,whenshewasdraggedtotheprecipice,twothousandyearsago。SophronwasgovernorofEphesus,andLaodiceplottedtoassassinatehim。Danaediscoveredtheplot,andwarnedSophron,whofled,andsavedhislife。Laodice——themurderessinintent——hadDanaeseizedandcastfromacliff。OnthevergeDanaesaidthatsomepersonsdespisedthedeity,andtheymightnowprovethejusticeoftheircontemptbyherfate。Forhavingsavedthemanwhowastoherasahusband,shewasrewardedinthiswaywithcrueldeathbythedeity,butLaodicewasadvancedtohonour。Thebitternessofthesewordsremainstothishour。

  Intruththedeity,ifresponsibleforsuchathing,orforsimilarthingswhichoccurnow,shouldbedespised。Onemustalwaysdespisethefatuousbeliefinsuchadeity。Butaseverythinginhumanaffairsobviouslyhappensbychance,itisclearthatnodeityisresponsible。Ifthedeityguideschanceinthatmanner,thenletthedeitybedespised。Apparentlythedeitydoesnotinterfere,andallthingshappenbychance。I

  cease,therefore,tolookfortracesofthedeityinlife,becausenosuchtracesexist。

  Iconcludethatthereisanexistence,asomethinghigherthansoul——higher,better,andmoreperfectthandeity。EarnestlyI

  praytofindthissomethingbetterthanagod。Thereissomethingsuperior,higher,moregood。ForthisIsearch,labour,think,andpray。Ifafteralltherebenothing,andmysoulhastogooutlikeaflame,yeteventhenI

  havethoughtthiswhileitlives。Withthewholeforceofmyexistence,withthewholeforceofmythought,mind,andsoul,IpraytofindthisHighestSoul,thisgreaterthandeity,thisbetterthangod。Givemetolivethedeepestsoul—lifenowandalwayswiththisSoul。ForwantofwordsIwritesoul,butIthinkthatitissomethingbeyondsoul。

  CHAPTERV

  ITisnotpossibletonarratetheseincidentsofthemindinstrictorder。Imustnowreturntoaperiodearlierthananythingalreadynarrated,andpassinreviewotherphasesofmysearchfromthenuptillrecently。SolongsincethatIhaveforgottenthedate,IusedeverymorningtovisitaspotwhereI

  couldgetaclearviewoftheeast。ImmediatelyonrisingI

  wentouttosomeelms;thenceIcouldseeacrossthedewyfieldstothedistanthilloverornearwhichthesunrose。Theseelmspartiallyhidme,foratthattimeIhadadisliketobeingseen,feelingthatI

  shouldbedespisedifIwasnoticed。Thishappenedonceortwice,andIknewIwaswatchedcontemptuously,thoughnoonehadtheleastideaofmyobject。ButIwenteverymorning,andwassatisfiedifIcouldgettwoorthreeminutestothinkunchecked。OftenIsawthesunriseoverthelineofthehills,butifitwassummerthesunhadbeenupalongtime。

  Ilookedatthehills,atthedewygrass,andthenupthroughtheelmbranchestothesky。Inamomentallthatwasbehindme,thehouse,thepeople,thesounds,seemedtodisappear,andtoleavemealone。InvoluntarilyIdrewalongbreath,thenI

  breathedslowly。Mythought,orinnerconsciousness,wentupthroughtheilluminedsky,andIwaslostinamomentofexaltation。Thisonlylastedaveryshorttime,perhapsonlypartofasecond,andwhileitlastedtherewasnoformulatedwish。Iwasabsorbed;Idrankthebeautyofthemorning;Iwasexalted。WhenitceasedIdidwishforsomeincreaseorenlargementofmyexistencetocorrespondwiththelargenessoffeelingIhadmomentarilyenjoyed。Sometimesthewindcamethroughthetopsoftheelms,andtheslenderboughsbent,andgazingupthroughthem,andbeyondthefleecyclouds,Ifeltliftedup。Thelightcomingacrossthegrassandleavingitselfonthedew—drops,thesoundofthewind,andthesenseofmountingtotheloftyheaven,filledmewithadeepsigh,awishtodrawsomethingoutofthebeautyofit,somepartofthatwhichcausedmyadmiration,thesubtleinneressence。

  Sometimesthegreentipsofthehighestboughsseemedgilded,thelightlaidagoldonthegreen。Orthetreesbowedtoastormywindroaringthroughthem,thegrassthrewitselfdown,andintheeastbroadcurtainsofarosytintstretchedalong。Thelightwasturnedtorednessinthevapour,andrainhidthesummitofthehill。Intherushandroarofthestormywindthesameexaltation,thesamedesire,liftedmeforamoment。Iwentthereeverymorning,Icouldnotexactlydefinewhy;itwaslikegoingtoarosebushtotastethescentoftheflowerandfeelthedewfromitspetalsonthelips。

  ButIdesiredthebeauty——theinnersubtlemeaning——tobeinme,thatI

  mighthaveit,andwithitanexistenceofahigherkind。

  LateronIbegantohavedailypilgrimagestothinkthesethings。TherewasafeelingthatImustgosomewhere,andbealone。Itwasanecessitytohaveafewminutesofthisseparatelifeeveryday;mymindrequiredtoliveitsownlifeapartfromotherthings。Agreatoakatashortdistancewasoneresort,andsittingonthegrassattheroots,orleaningagainstthetrunkandlookingoverthequietmeadowstowardsthebrightsouthernsky,Icouldlivemyownlifealittlewhile。BehindthetrunkIwasalone;Ilikedtoleanagainstit;totouchthelichenontheroughbark。Highinthewoodofbranchesthebirdswerenotalarmed;theysang,orcalled,andpassedtoandfrohappily。Thewindmovedtheleaves,andtheyrepliedtoitsoftly;andnowatthisdistanceoftimeIcanseethefragmentsofskyupthroughtheboughs。Beeswerealwayshumminginthegreenfield;ring—doveswentoverswiftly,flyingforthewoods。

  OfthesunIwasconscious;Icouldnotlookatit,buttheboughsheldbackthebeamssothatIcouldfeelthesun’spresencepleasantly。Theyshadedthesun,yetletmeknowthatitwasthere。Therecametomeadelicate,butatthesametimeadeep,strong,andsensuousenjoymentofthebeautifulgreenearth,thebeautifulskyandsun;Ifeltthem,theygavemeinexpressibledelight,asiftheyembracedandpouredouttheirloveuponme。ItwasIwholovedthem,formyheartwasbroaderthantheearth;itisbroadernowthaneventhen,morethirstyanddesirous。Afterthesensuousenjoymentalwayscamethethought,thedesire:ThatImightbelikethis;

  thatImighthavetheinnermeaningofthesun,thelight,theearth,thetreesandgrass,translatedintosomegrowthofexcellenceinmyself,bothofbodyandofmind;greaterperfectionofphysique,greaterperfectionofmindandsoul;thatImightbehigherinmyself。TothisoakIcamedailyforalongtime;sometimesonlyforaminute,forjusttoviewthespotwasenough。Inthebittercoldofspring,whenthenorthwindblackenedeverything,Iusedtocomenowandthenatnighttolookfromunderthebarebranchesatthesplendourofthesouthernsky。Thestarsburnedwithbrilliance,broadOrionandflashingSirius——therearemoreorbrighterconstellationsvisiblethenthanalltheyear:andtheclearnessoftheairandtheblacknessofthesky——black,notclouded——letthemgleamintheirfulness。Theyliftedme——theygavemefreshvigourofsoul。Notallthatthestarscouldhavegiven,hadtheybeendestinies,couldhavesatiatedme。

  This,allthis,andmore,Iwantedinmyself。

  Therewasaplaceamileorsoalongtheroadwherethehillscouldbeseenmuchbetter;Iwenttherefrequentlytothinkthesamethought。Anotherspotwasbyanelm,averyshortwalk,whereopeningsinthetrees,andtheslopeoftheground,broughtthehillswellintoview。Thistoo,wasafavouritethinking—place。Anotherwasawood,halfanhour’swalkdistant,throughpartofwhicharudetrackwent,sothatitwasnotaltogetherinclosed。Theash—saplings,andthetrees,thefirs,thehazelbushes——tobeamongtheseenabledmetobemyself。Fromthebudsofspringtotheberriesofautumn,I

  alwayslikedtobethere。Sometimesinspringtherewasasheenofblue—bellscoveringacres;thedovescooed;theblackbirdswhistledsweetly;

  therewasatasteofgreenthingsintheair。Butitwasthetallfirsthatpleasedmemost;theglanceroseuptheflame—shapedfir—tree,taperingtoitsgreentip,andabovewastheazuresky。ByaidofthetreeIfelttheskymore。ByaidofeverythingbeautifulIfeltmyself,andinthatintensesenseofconsciousnessprayedforgreaterperfectionofsoulandbody。

  Afterwards,Iwalkedalmostdailymorethantwomilesalongtheroadtoaspotwherethehillsbegan,wherefromthefirstrisetheroadcouldbeseenwindingsouthwardsoverthehills,openanduninclosed。Ipausedaminuteortwobyaclumpoffirs,inwhosebranchesthewindalwayssighed——thereisalwaysamovementoftheaironahill。Southwwardstheskywasilluminedbythesun,southwardsthecloudsmovedacrosstheopeningorpassintheamphitheatre,andsouthwards,thoughfardistant,wasthesea。ThereIcouldthinkamoment。Thesepilgrimagesgavemeafewsacredminutesdaily;themomentseemedholywhenthethoughtordesirecameinitsfullforce。

  Atimecamewhen,havingtoliveinatown,thesepilgrimageshadtobesuspended。ThewearisomeworkonwhichIwasengagedwouldnotpermitofthem。ButIusedtolooknowandthen,fromawindow,intheeveningatabirch—treeatsomedistance;itsgracefulboughsdroopedacrosstheglowofthesunset。Thethoughtwasnotsuspended;itlivedinmealways。AbitterertimestillcamewhenitwasnecessarytobeseparatedfromthoseIloved。ThereislittleindeedinthemoreimmediatesuburbsofLondontogratifythesenseofthebeautiful。YettherewasacedarbywhichIusedtowalkupanddown,andthinkthesamethoughtsasunderthegreatoakinthesolitudeofthesunlitmeadows。

  Inthecourseofslowtimehappiercircumstancesbroughtustogetheragain,and,thoughnearLondon,ataspotwheretherewaseasyaccesstomeadowsandwoods。Hillsthatpurifythosewhowalkonthemtherewerenot。StillIthoughtmyoldthoughts。

  IwasmuchinLondon,and,engagementscompleted,Iwanderedaboutinthesamewayasinthewoodsofformerdays。FromthestonebridgesIlookeddownontheriver;thegrittydust,thestrawsthatlieonthebridges,flewupandwhirledroundwitheverygustfromtheflowingtide;grittydustthatsettlesinthenostrilsandonthelips,theveryresiduumofallthatisrepulsiveinthegreatestcityoftheworld。Thenoiseofthetrafficandtheconstantpressurefromthecrowdspassing,theirincessantanddisjointedtalk,couldnotdistractme。OnemomentatleastIhad,amomentwhenIthoughtofthepushofthegreatseaforcingthewatertoflowunderthefeetofthesecrowds,thedistantseastrongandsplendid;whenIsawthesunlightgleamonthetidalwavelets;whenIfeltthewind,andwasconsciousoftheearth,thesea,thesun,theair,theimmenseforcesworkingon,whilethecityhummedbytheriver。Naturewasdeepenedbythecrowdsandfoot—wornstones。Ifthetidehadebbed,andthemastsofthevesselsweretiltedasthehullsrestedontheshelvingmud,stilleventheblackenedmuddidnotpreventmeseeingthewateraswaterflowingtothesea。Theseahaddrawndown,andthewaveletswashingthestrandhereastheyhastenedwererunningthefastertoit。EastwardsfromLondonBridgetheriverracedtotheocean。

  ThebrightmorningsunofsummerheatedtheeasternparapetofLondonBridge;Istayedintherecesstoacknowledgeit。Thesmoothwaterwasabroadsheenoflight,thebuilt—upriverflowedcalmandsilentbyathousanddoors,ripplingonlywherethestreamchafedagainstachain。Redpennantsdrooped,gildedvanesgleamedonpolishedmasts,black—pitchedhullsglistenedlikeablackrook’sfeathersinsunlight;theclearaircutouttheforwardanglesofthewarehouses,theshadowedwharveswerequietinshadowsthatcarriedlight;fardowntheshipsthatwerehaulingoutmovedinrepose,andwiththestreamfloatedawayintothesummermist。Therewasafaintbluecolourintheairhoveringbetweenthebuilt—upbanks,againstthelitwalls,inthehollowsofthehouses。Theswallowswheeledandclimbed,twitteredandglideddownwards。Burningon,thegreatsunstoodinthesky,heatingtheparapet,glowingsteadfastlyuponmeaswhenIrestedinthenarrowvalleygroovedoutinprehistorictimes。Burningonsteadfast,andeverpresentasmythought。

  Lightingthebroadriver,thebroadwalls;lightingtheleastspeckofdust;

  lightingthegreatheaven;gleamingonmyfinger—nail。Thefixedpointofday——thesun。Iwasintenselyconsciousofit;Ifeltit;Ifeltthepresenceoftheimmensepowersoftheuniverse;Ifeltoutintothedepthsoftheether。Sointenselyconsciousofthesun,thesky,thelimitlessspace,Ifelttoointhemidstofeternitythen,inthemidstofthesupernatural,amongtheimmortal,andthegreatnessofthematerialrealisedthespirit。BytheseI

  sawmysoul;bytheseIknewthesupernaturaltobemoreintenselyrealthanthesun。Itouchedthesupernatural,theimmortal,therethatmoment。

  When,wearyofwalkingonthepavements,IwenttorestintheNationalGallery,Isatandrestedbeforeoneorotherofthehumanpictures。Iamnotapicturelover:theyareflatsurfaces,butthosethatIcallhumanareneverthelessbeautiful。ThekneeinDaphnisandChloeandthebreastarelikelivingthings;theydrawthehearttowardsthem,theheartmustlovethem。Ilivedinlooking;withoutbeautythereisnolifeforme,thedivinebeautyoffleshislifeitselftome。

  TheshoulderintheSurprise,theroundedriseofthebust,theexquisitetintsoftheripeskin,momentarilygratifiedthesea—

  thirstinme。ForIthirstwithallthethirstofthesaltsea,andthesun—heatedsandsdryforthetide,withalltheseaI

  thirstforbeauty。AndIknowfullwellthatonelifetime,howeverlong,cannotfillmyheart。Mythroatandtongueandwholebodyhaveoftenbeenparchedandfeverishdrywiththismeasurelessthirst,andagainmoisttothefingers’endslikeasappybough。Itburnsinmeasthesunburnsinthesky。

  TheglowingfaceofCythereainTitian’sVenusandAdonis,theheatedcheek,thelipsthatkisseacheyethatgazesonthem,thedesiringglance,thegoldenhair——sunbeamsmouldedintofeatures——thisfaceansweredme。Juno’swidebackandmesialgroove,isanythingsolovelyastheback?Cytherealspoisedhipsunveiledforjudgment;thesecalledupthesamethirstI

  feltonthegreenswardinthesun,onthewildbeachlisteningtothequietsobasthesummerwavedrankattheland。Iwillsearchtheworldthroughforbeauty。IcamehereandsattorestbeforetheseinthedayswhenIcouldnotaffordtobuysomuchasaglassofale,wearyandfaintfromwalkingonstonepavements。Icamelateron,inbettertimes,oftenstraightfromlabourswhichthoughnecessarywilleverbedistasteful,alwaystorestmyheartwithloveliness。Igostill;thedivinebeautyoffleshislifeitselftome。Itwas,andis,oneofmyLondonpilgrimages。

  AnotherwastotheGreeksculpturegalleriesintheBritishMuseum。Thestatuesarenot,itissaid,thebest;brokentoo,andmutilated,andseeninadull,commonplacelight。Buttheywereshape——divineshapeofmanandwoman;theformoflimbandtorso,ofbustandneck,gavemeasighingsenseofrest。Theseweretheywhowouldhavestayedwithmeundertheshadowoftheoakswhiletheblackbirdsflutedandthesouthairswungthecowslips。Theywouldhavewalkedwithmeamongthereddenedgoldofthewheat。Theywouldhaverestedwithmeonthehill—topsandinthenarrowvalleygroovedofancienttimes。Theywouldhavelistenedwithmetothesobofthesummerseadrinkingtheland。Thesehadthirstedofsun,andearth,andsea,andsky。Theirshapespokethisthirstanddesirelikemine——ifIhadlivedwiththemfromGreecetillnowIshouldnothavehadenoughofthem。Tracingtheformoflimbandtorsowiththeeyegavemeasenseofrest。

  SometimesIcameinfromthecrowdedstreetsandceaselesshum;

  oneglanceattheseshapesandIbecamemyself。SometimesIcamefromtheReading—room,whereunderthedomeIoftenlookedupfromthedeskandrealisedthecrushinghopelessnessofbooks,useless,notequaltoonebubblebornealongontherunningbrookIhadwalkedby,givingnothoughtlikethespringwhenIliftedthewaterinmyhandandsawthelightgleamonit。Torsoandlimb,bustandneckinstantlyreturnedmetomyself;IfeltasIdidlyingontheturflisteningtothewindamongthegrass;itwouldhaveseemednaturaltohavefoundbutterfliesflutteringamonghestatues。

  Thesamedeepdesirewaswithme。Ishallalwaysgotospeaktothem;theyareaplaceofpilgrimage;whereverthereisabeautifulstatuethereisaplaceofpilgrimage。

  Ialwayssteppedaside,too,tolookawhileattheheadofJuliusCaesar。Thedomesoftheswellingtemplesofhisbroadheadarefullofmind,evidenttotheeyeasaglobeisfullofsubstancetothesenseoffeelinginthehandsthatholdit。

  Thethinworncheekisentirelyhuman;endlessdifficultiessurmountedbyendlesslabouraremarkedinit,asthesandblast,bydintofparticlesceaselesslydriven,carvesthehardestmaterial。Ifcircumstancesfavouredhimhemadethosecircumstanceshisownbymarvellouslabour,soasjustlytoreceivethecreditofchance。Thereforethethincheekisentirelyhuman——thesumofhumanlifemadevisibleinoneface——labour,andendurance,andmind,andallinvain。A

  shadow——ofdeepsadnesshasgatheredonitintheyearsthathavepassed,becauseendurancewaswithoutavail。Itissaddertolookatthanthegrass—growntumulusIusedtositby,becauseitisapersonality,andalsoonaccountoftheextremefollyofourhumanraceeverdestroyingourgreatest。

  Farbetterhadtheyendeavoured,howeverhopelessly,tokeephimlivingtillthisday。Didbuttheracethishourpossessone—

  hundredthpartofhisbreadthofview,howhappyforthem!Ofwhomelsecanitbesaidthathehadnoenemiestoforgivebecauseherecognisednoenemy?Nineteenhundredyearsagoheputinactualpractice,withmorearbitrarypowerthananydespot,thoseveryprinciplesofhumanitywhicharenowputforwardasthehighestculture。Buthemadethemtobeactualthingsunderhissway。

  Theonemanfilledwithmind;theonemanwithoutavarice,anger,pettiness,littleness;theonemangenerousandtrulygreatofallhistory。Itisenoughtomakeonedespairtothinkofthemerebrutesbuttingtodeaththegreat—mindedCaesar。Hecomesnearesttotheidealofadesign—powerarrangingtheaffairsoftheworldforgoodinpracticalthings。Beforehisface——thedivinebrowofmindabove,thehumansuffering—drawncheekbeneath——myownthoughtbecamesetandstrengthened。ThatIcouldbutlookatthingsinthebroadwayhedid;thatI

  couldnotpossessoneparticleofsuchwidthofintellecttoguidemyowncourse,tocopewithanddragforthfromtheiron—

  resistingforcesoftheuniversesomeonethingofmyprayerforthesoulandfortheflesh。

  CHAPTERVI

  THEREisaplaceinfrontoftheRoyalExchangewherethewidepavementreachesoutlikeapromontory。Itisintheshapeofatrianglewitharoundedapex。Astreamoftrafficrunsoneitherside,andotherstreetssendtheircurrentsdownintotheopenspacebeforeit。Likethespokesofawheelconvergingstreamsofhumanlifeflowintothisagitatedpool。Horsesandcarriages,carts,vans,omnibuses,cabs,everykindofconveyancecrosseachother’scourseineverypossibledirection。Twistinginandoutbythewheelsandunderthehorses’heads,workingadeviousway,menandwomenofallconditionswindapathover。Theyfilltheintersticesbetweenthecarriagesandblackenthesurface,tillthevansalmostfloatonhumanbeings。Nowthestreamsslacken,andnowtheyrushamain,butnevercease;darkwavesarealwaysrollingdowntheinclineopposite,wavesswelloutfromthesiderivers,allLondonconvergesintothisfocus。Thereisanindistinguishablenoise——itisnotclatter,hum,orroar,itisnotresolvable;madeupofathousandthousandfootsteps,fromathousandhoofs,athousandwheels——ofhaste,andshuffle,andquickmovements,andponderousloads;noattentioncanresolveitintoafixedsound。

  Bluecartsandyellowomnibuses,varnishedcarriagesandbrownvans,greenomnibusesandredcabs,paleloadsofyellowstraw,rusty—redironclukingonpointlesscarts,highwhitewool—

  packs,greyhorses,bayhorses,blackteams;sunlightsparklingonbrassharness,gleamingfromcarriagepanels;jingle,jingle,jingle!Anintermixedandintertangled,ceaselesslychangingjingle,too,ofcolour;flecksofcolourchamped,asitwere,likebitsinthehorses’

  teeth,frothedandstrewnabout,andasurfacealwaysofdark—dressedpeoplewindinglikethecurvesonfast—flowingwater。Thisisthevortexandwhirlpool,thecentreofhumanlifetodayontheearth。Nowthetiderisesandnowitsinks,buttheflowoftheseriversalwayscontinues。Hereitseethesandwhirls,notforanhouronly,butforallpresenttime,hourbyhour,daybyday,yearbyyear。

  Hereitrushesandpushes,theatomstriturateandgrind,and,eagerlythrustingby,pursuetheirseparateends。Hereitappearsinitsunconcealedpersonality,indifferenttoallelsebutitself,absorbedandraptineagerself,devoidandstrippedofconventionalglossandpoliteness,yieldingonlytogetitsownway;

  driving,pushing,carriedoninastressoffeverishforcelikeabullet,dynamicforceapartfromreasonorwill,liketheforcethatliftsthetidesandsendsthecloudsonwards。Thefrictionofathousandinterestsevolvesaconditionofelectricityinwhichmenaremovedtoandfrowithoutconsideringtheirsteps。Yettheagitatedpooloflifeisstonilyindifferent,thethoughtisabsentorpreoccupied,foritisevidentthatthemassareunconsciousofthesceneinwhichtheyact。

  Butitismoresternlyrealthantheverystones,forallthesemenandwomenthatpassthrougharedrivenonbythepushofaccumulatedcircumstances;theycannotstay,theymustgo,theirnecksareintheslave’sring,theyarebeatenlikeseaweedagainstthesolidwallsoffact。Inancienttimes,Xerxes,thekingofkings,lookingdownuponhismyriads,wepttothinkthatinahundredyearsnotoneofthemwouldbeleft。Wherewillbethesemillionsofto—dayinahundredyears?But,furtherthanthat,letusask,Wherethenwillbethesumandoutcomeoftheirlabour?Iftheywitherawaylikesummergrass,willnotatleastaresultbeleftwhichthoseofahundredyearshencemaybethebetterfor?No,notonejot!Therewillnotbeanysumoroutcomeorresultofthisceaselesslabourandmovement;itvanishesinthemomentthatitisdone,andinahundredyearsnothingwillbethere,fornothingistherenow。Therewillbenomoresumorresultthanaccumulatesfromthemotionofarevolvingcowlonahousetop。Nordotheyreceiveanymoresunshineduringtheirlives,fortheyareunconsciousofthesun。

  Iusedtocomeandstandneartheapexofthepromontoryofpavementwhichjutsouttowardsthepooloflife;Istillgotheretoponder。Burninginthesky,thesunshoneonmeaswhenIrestedinthenarrowvalleycarvedinprehistorictime。

  Burninginthesky,Icanneverforgetthesun。Theheatofsummerisdrythereasifthelightcarriedanimpalpabledust;dry,breathlessheatthatwillnotlettheskinrespire,butswathesupthedryfireintheblood。Butbeyondtheheatandlight,IfeltthepresenceofthesunasIfeltitinthesolitaryvalley,thepresenceoftheresistlessforcesoftheuniverse;thesunburnedintheskyasIstoodandpondered。Isthereanytheory,philosophy,orcreed,isthereanysystemorculture,anyformulatedmethodabletomeetandsatisfyeachseparateitemofthisagitatedpoolofhumanlife?Bywhichtheymaybeguided,bywhichhope,bywhichlookforward?Notamereillusionofthecravenheart——somethingreal,asrealasthesolidwallsoffactagainstwhich,likedriftedsea—weed,theyaredashed;somethingtogiveeachseparatepersonalitysunshineandaflowerinitsownexistencenow;somethingtoshapethismillion—handedlabourtoanendandoutcomethatwillleavemoresunshineandmoreflowerstothosewhomustsucceed?Somethingrealnow,andnotinthespirit—land;inthishournow,asIstandandthesunburns。Cananycreed,philosophy,system,orcultureendurethetestandremainunmolteninthisfiercefocusofhumanlife?

  Consider,isthereanythingslowlypaintedontheoncemysticandnowcommonplacepapyriofancient,ancientEgypt,heldonthemummy’switheredbreast?Inthatelaborateritual,intheprocessionofthesymbols,inthewingedcircle,inthelaborioussarcophagus?Nothing;absolutelynothing!

  Beforethefierceheatofthehumanfurnace,thepapyrismoulderawayaspapersmouldersunderalensinthesun。RememberNinevehandthecultofthefir—cone,theturbanedandbeardedbullsofstone,thelionhunt,thepaintedchambersloadedwithtilebooks,theloreofthearrow—headedwriting。WhatisinAssyria?Therearesand,andfailingrivers,andinAssyria’swritingsanutternothing。TheagedcavesofIndia,whoshalltellwhentheyweresculptured?Farbackwhenthesunwasburning,burningintheskyasnowinuntoldprecedenttime。

  Isthereanymeaninginthoseancientcaves?Theindistinguish—ablenoisenottoberesolved,bornofthehumanstruggle,mocksinanswer。

  InthestrangecharactersoftheZend,intheSanscrit,intheeffortlesscreedofConfucius,intheAzteccoloured—stringwritingsandrayedstones,intheuncertainmarksleftofthesunkenPolynesiancontinent,hieroglyphsasuselessasthoseofMemphis,nothing。Nothing!Theyhavebeentried,andwerefoundanillusion。

  Thinkthen,to—day,nowlookingfromthisapexofthepavementpromontoryoutwardsfromourownlandtotheutmostboundsofthefarthestsail,isthereanyfaithorcultureatthishourwhichcanstandinthisfierceheat?FromthevariousformsofSemitic,Aryan,orTuraniancreednowexisting,fromtheprinting—presstothepalm—leafvolumeontothosewhocallonthejewelinthelotus,canaughtbegatheredwhichcanfacethis,theReality?Theindistinguishablenoise,non—resolvable,roarsaloudcontempt。

  Turn,then,tothecalmreasoningofAristotle;isthereanythinginthat?Canthehalf—divinethoughtofPlato,risinginstoreysofsequentialideas,followingeachothertotheconclusion,endurehere?No!AllthephilosophersinDiogenesLaertiusfadeaway:thetheoriesofmedimvaldays;theorganonofexperiment;downtothishour——theyareuselessalike。Thescienceofthishour,drawnfromtheprinting—pressinanendlesswebofpaper,ispowerlesshere;theindistinguishablenoiseechoedfromthesmoke—shadowedwallsdespisesthewhole。Athousandfootsteps,athousandhoofs,athousandwheelsrolloverandutterlycontemnthemincompleteannihilation。Mereillusionsofheartormind,theyaretestedandthrustasidebytheirresistiblepushofamillionconvergingfeet。

  Burninginthesky,thesunshinesasitshoneonmeinthesolitaryvalley,asitburnedonwhentheearliestcaveofIndiawascarved。AbovetheindistinguishableroarofthemanyfeetI

  feelthepresenceofthesun,oftheimmenseforcesoftheuniverse,andbeyondthesethesenseoftheeternalnow,oftheimmortal。Fullwellawarethatallhasfailed,yet,sidebysidewiththesadnessofthatknowledge,therelivesoninmeanunquenchablebelief,thoughtburninglikethesun,thatthereisyetsomethingtobefound,somethingreal,somethingtogiveeachseparatepersonalitysunshineandflowersinitsownexistencenow。Somethingtoshapethismillion—handedlabourtoanendandoutcome,leavingaccumulatedsunshineandflowerstothosewhoshallsucceed。Itmustbedraggedforthbymightofthoughtfromtheimmenseforcesoftheuniverse。

  Toprepareforsuchaneffort,firstthemindmustbeclearedoftheconceitthat,becauseweliveto—day,wearewiserthantheagesgone。Themindmustacknowledgeitsignorance;allthelearningandloreofsomanyerasmustbeerasedfromitasanencumbrance。Itisnotfrompastorpresentknowledge,scienceorfaith,thatitistobedrawn。Erasethesealtogetherastheyareerasedunderthefierceheatofthefocusbeforeme。Beginwhollyafresh。Gostraighttothesun,theimmenseforcesoftheuniverse,totheEntityunknown;gohigherthanagod;deeperthanprayer;andopenanewday。ThatImightbuthaveafragmentofCaesar’sintellecttofindafragmentofthisdesire!

  >FrommyhomenearLondonImadeapilgrimagealmostdailytoanaspenbyabrook。Itwasamileandaquarteralongtheroad,farenoughformetowalkofftheconcentrationofmindnecessaryforwork。Theideaofthepilgrimagewastogetawayfromtheendlessandnamelesscircumstancesofeverydayexistence,whichbydegreesbuildawallaboutthemindsothatittravelsinaconstantlynarrowingcircle。Thistetherofthefacultiestendstomakethemacceptpresentknowledge,andpresentthings,asallthatcanbeattainedto。Thisisall——

  thereisnothingmore——istheiteratedpreachingofhouse—life。

  Remain;becontent;goroundandroundinonebarrenpath,alittlemoney,alittlefoodandsleep,someancientfables,oldageanddeath。Ofalltheinventionsofcasuistrywithmanforageshasinvariouswayswhichmanacledhimself,andstayedhisownadvance,thereisnoneequallypotentwiththesuppositionthatnothingmoreispossible。Oncewellimpressonthemindthatithasalreadyall,thatadvanceisimpossiblebecausethereisnothingfurther,anditischainedlikeahorsetoanironpinintheground。Itisthemostdeadly——themostfatalpoisonofthemind。

  Nosuchcasuistryhaseverforamomentheldme,butstill,ifpermitted,theconstantroutineofhouse—life,thesamework,thesamethoughtinthework,thelittlecircumstancesregularlyrecurring,willdullthekeenestedgeofthought。Bymydailypilgrimage,Iescapedfromitbacktothesun。

  Insummertheleavesoftheaspenrustledpleasantly,therewasthetinkleoffallingwateroverahatch,thrushessangandblackbirdswhistled,greenfincheslaughedintheirtalktoeachother。Thecommonplacedustyroadwascommonplacenolonger。

  Inthedustwasthemarkofthechaffinches’littlefeet;thewhitelightrenderedeventhedustbrightertolookon。Theaircamefromthesouth—west——thereweredistanthillsinthatdirection——overfieldsofgrassandcorn。AsIvisitedthespotfromdaytodaythewheatgrewfromgreentoyellow,thewildrosesflowered,thescarletpoppiesappeared,andagainthebeechesreddenedinautumn。Inthemarchoftimetherefellawayfrommymind,astheleavesfromthetreesinautumn,thelasttracesandrelicsofsuperstitionsandtraditionsacquiredcompulsorilyinchildhood。Alwaysfeeblyadhering,theyfinallydisappeared。

  Therefellaway,too,personalbiasandprejudices,enablingmetoseeclearerandwithwidersympathies。Theglamourofmodernscienceanddiscoveriesfadedaway,forIfoundthemnomorethanthefirstpotter’swheel。Erasureandreceptionproceededtogether;thepastaccumulationsofcasuistrywereerased,andmythoughtwidenedtoreceivetheideaofsomethingbeyondallpreviousideas。Withdisbelief,beliefincreased。

  Theaspirationandhope,theprayer,wasthesameasthatwhichIfeltyearsbeforeonthehills,onlyitnowbroadened。

  Experienceoflife,insteadofcurtailingandcheckingmyprayer,ledmetorejectexperiencealtogether。AswellmightthehorsebelievethattheroadthebridleforcesittotraverseeverydayencirclestheearthasIbelieveinexperience。Alltheexperienceofthegreatestcityintheworldcouldnotwithholdme。Irejecteditwholly。Istoodbare—headedbeforethesun,inthepresenceoftheearthandair,inthepresenceoftheimmenseforcesoftheuniverse。Idemandthatwhichwillmakememoreperfectnow,thishour。Londonconvincedmeofmyownthought。Thatthoughthasalwaysbeenwithme,andalwaysgrowswider。

  OnemidsummerIwentoutoftheroadintothefields,andsatdownonthegrassbetweentheyellowingwheatandthegreenhawthornbushes。Thesunburnedinthesky,thewheatwasfullofaluxuriantsenseofgrowth,thegrasshigh,theearthgivingitsvigourtotreeandleaf,theheavenblue。Thevigourandgrowth,thewarmthandlight,thebeautyandrichnessofitenteredintome;anecstasyofsoulaccompaniedthedelicateexcitementofthesenses:thesoulrosewiththebody。Raptinthefulnessofthemoment,Iprayedtherewithallthatexpansionofmindandframe;nowords,nodefinition,inexpressibledesireofphysicallife,ofsoul—life,equaltoandbeyondthehighestimaginingofmyheart。

  Thesememoriescannotbeplacedinexactchronologicalorder。

  Therewasatimewhenawearyrestlessnesscameuponme,perhapsfromtoo—long—continuedlabour。Itwaslikeadrought——amoraldrought——asifI

  hadbeenabsentformanyyearsfromthesourcesoflifeandhope。Theinnernaturewasfaint,allwasdryandtasteless;Iwaswearyforthepure,freshspringsofthought。Someinstinctivefeelinguncontrollabledrovemetothesea;IwassounderitsinfluencethatIcouldnotarrangethejourneysoastogetthelongestday。Imerelystarted,andofcoursehadtowaitandenduremuchinconvenience。Togettotheseaatsomequietspotwasmyonethought;todosoIhadtotravelfarther,andfromwantofprearrangementitwasbetweentwoandthreeintheafternoonbeforeIreachedtheendofmyjourney。Eventhen,beingtoomuchpreoccupiedtoinquiretheway,Imissedtheroadandhadtowalkalongdistancebeforecomingtotheshore。ButI

  foundtheseaatlast;Iwalkedbesideitinatranceawayfromthehousesoutintothewheat。heripecornstooduptothebeach,thewavesononesideoftheshingle,andtheyellowwheatontheother。

  There,alone,Iwentdowntothesea。Istoodwherethefoamcametomyfeet,andlookedoutoverthesunlitwaters。Thegreatearthbearingtherichnessoftheharvest,anditshillsgoldenwithcorn,wasatmyback;itsstrengthandfirmnessunderme。Thegreatsunshoneabove,thewideseawasbeforeme,thewindcamesweetandstrongfromthewaves。Thelifeoftheearthandthesea,theglowofthesunfilledme;Itouchedthesurgewithmyhand,Iliftedmyfacetothesun,Iopenedmylipstothewind。Iprayedaloudintheroarofthewaves——mysoulwasstrongastheseaandprayedwiththesea’smight。Givemefulnessoflifeliketotheseaandthesun,totheearthandtheair;givemefulnessofphysicallife,mindequalandbeyondtheirfulness;givemeagreatnessandperfectionofsoulhigherthanallthings;givememyinexpressibledesirewhichswellsinmelikeatide——giveittomewithalltheforceofthesea。

  ThenIrested,sittingbythewheat;thebankofbeachwasbetweenmeandthesea,butthewavesbeatagainstit;theseawasthere,theseawaspresentandathand。BythedrywheatI

  rested,Ididnotthink,Iwasinhalingtherichnessofthesea,allthestrengthanddepthofmeaningoftheseaandearthcametomeagain。Irubbedoutsomeofthewheatinmyhands,Itookupapieceofclodandcrumbleditinmyfingers——itwasajoytotouchit——IheldmyhandsothatIcouldseethesunlightgleamontheslightlymoistsurfaceoftheskin。Theearthandsunweretomelikemyfleshandblood,andtheairofthesealife。

  WithallthegreaterexistenceIdrewfromthemIprayedforabodilylifeequaltoit,forasoul—lifebeyondmythought,formyinexpressibledesireofmorethanIcouldshapeevenintoidea。Therewassomethinghigherthanidea,invisibletothoughtasairtotheeye;givemebodilylifeequalinfulnesstothestrengthofearth,andsun,andsea;givemethesoul—

  lifeofmydesire。OncemoreIwentdowntothesea,touchedit,andsaidfarewell。Sodeepwastheinhalationofthislifethatday,thatitseemedtoremaininmeforyears。Thiswasarealpilgrimage。

  Timepassedaway,withmorelabour,pleasure,andagainatlast,aftermuchpainandwearinesssofmind,Icamedownagaintothesea。Thecircumstanceswerechanged——itwasnotahurriedglance——therewereopportunitiesforlongerthought。ItmatteredscarcelyanythingtomenowwhetherIwasalone,orwhetherhousesandotherpeoplewerenear。Nothingcoulddisturbmyinnervision。Bythesea,awareofthesunoverhead,andtheblueheaven,Ifeelthatthereisnothingbetweenmeandspace。

  Thisisthevergeofagulf,andatangentfrommyfeetgoesstraightuncheckedintotheunnknown。Itistheedgeoftheabyssasmuchasiftheearthwerecutawayinasheerfallofeightthousandmilestotheskybeneath,thenceahollowtothestars。Lookingstraightoutislookingstraightdown;theeye—

  glancegraduallydepartsfromthesea—level,and,risingasthatfalls,entersthehollowofheaven。Itisgazingalongthefaceofavastprecipiceintothehollowspacewhichisnameless。

  Theremysteryhasbeenplaced,butrealisingthevasthollowyondermakesmefeelthatthemysteryishere。I,whoamhereontheverge,standingonthemarginofthesky,aminthemysteryitself。

  IfIletmyeyelookbackuponmefromtheextremeoppositeofheaven,thenthisspotwhereIstandisinthecentreofthehollow。Alonewiththeseaandsky,Ipresentlyfeelallthedepthandwonderoftheunknowncomebacksurginguparound,andtouchingmeasthefoamrunstomyfeet。Iaminitnow,notto—morrow,thismoment;Icannotescapefromit。ThoughImaydeceivemyselfwithlabour,yetstillIaminit;insleeptoo。Thereisnoescapefromthisimmensity。

  Feelingthisbythesea,underthesun,mylifeenlargesandquickens,strivingtotaketoitselfthelargenessoftheheaven。Theframecannotexpand,butthesoulisabletostandbeforeit。Nogiant’sbodycouldbeinproportiontotheearth,butalittlespiritisequaltotheentirecosmos,toearthandocean,sunandstar—hollow。Thesearebutafewacrestoit。

  Werethecosmostwiceaswide,thesoulcouldrunoverit,andreturntoitselfinatimesosmall,nomeasureexiststometeit。

  Therefore,Ithinkthesoulmaysometimesfindoutanexistenceassuperiorasmymindistothedeadchalkcliff。

  Withthegreatsunburningoverthefoamflakedsea,roofedwithheaven——awareofmyself,aconsciousnessforcedonmebythesethings——Ifeelthatthoughtmustyetgrowlargerandcorrespondinmagnitudeofconceptiontothese。Butthesecannotcontentme,theseTitanicthingsofsea,andsun,andprofundity;Ifeelthatmythoughtisstrongerthantheyare。Iburnlifelikeatorch。Thehotlightshotbackfromtheseascorchesmycheek——

  mylifeisburninginme。Thesoulthrobsliketheseaforalargerlife。NothoughtwhichIhaveeverhadhassatisfiedmysoul。

  CHAPTERVII

  MYstrengthisnotenoughtofulfilmydesire;ifIhadthestrengthoftheocean,andoftheearth,theburningvigourofthesunimplantedinmylimbs,itwouldhardlysufficetogratifythemeasurelessdesireoflifewhichpossessesme。Ihaveoftenwalkedthedaylongoverthesward,and,compelledtopause,atlength,inmyweariness,IwasfullofthesameeagernesswithwhichIstarted。Thesinewswouldobeynolonger,butthewillwasthesame。Myframecouldnevertaketheviolentexertionmyheartdemanded。Labourofbodywaslikemeatanddrinktome。Overtheopenhills,upthesteepascents,mileaftermile,therewasdeepenjoymentinthelong—drawnbreath,thespringofthefoot,intheactofrapidmovement。NeverhaveIhadenoughofit;IweariedlongbeforeIwassatisfied,andwearinessdidnotbringacessationofdesire;thethirstwasstillthere。Irowed,Iusedtheaxe,Isplittree—trunkswithwedges;myarmstired,butmyspiritremainedfreshandchafedagainstthephysicalweariness。Myarmswerenotstrongenoughtosatisfymewiththeaxe,orwedges,oroars。Therewasdelightinthemoment,butitwasnotenough。Iswam,andwhatismoredeliciousthanswimming?Itisexerciseandluxuryatonce。

  ButIcouldnotswimfarenough;Iwasalwaysdissatisfiedwithmyselfonleavingthewater。

  Naturehasnotgivenmeagreatframe,andhaditdonesoIshouldstillhavelongedformore。Iwasoutofdoorsallday,andoftenhalfthenight;

  stillIwantedmoresunshine,moreair,thehoursweretooshort。Ifeelthisevenmorenowthanintheviolenceofearlyyouth:thehoursaretooshort,thedayshouldbesixtyhourslong。Slumber,too,isabbreviatedandrestricted;fortyhoursofnightandsleepwouldnotbetoomuch。Solittlecanbeaccomplishedinthelongestsummerday,solittlerestandnewforceisaccumulatedinashorteighthoursofsleep。

  Ilivebytheseanow;Icanseenothingofitinaday;why,I

  dobutgetabreathofit,andthesunsinksbeforeIhavewellbeguntothink。Lifeissolittleandsomean。Idreamsometimesbackwardsoftheancienttimes。IfIcouldhavethebowofNinus,andtheearthfullofwildbullsandlions,tohuntthemdown,therewouldberestinthat。Toshootwithagunisnothing;ameretouchdischargesit。Givemeabow,thatImayenjoythedelightoffeelingmyselfdrawthestringandthestrongwoodbending,thatImayseetherushofthearrow,andthebroadheadburyitselfdeepinshaggyhide。GivemeanironmacethatImaycrushthesavagebeastandhammerhimdown。Aspeartothrustthroughwith,sothatImayfeelthelongbladeenterandthepushoftheshaft。TheunweariedstrengthofNinustohuntunceasinglyinthefiercesun。StillI

  shoulddesiregreaterstrengthandastouterbow,wildercreaturestocombat。Theintenselifeofthesenses,thereisneverenoughforthem。I

  envySemiramis;IwouldhavebeententimesSemiramis。IenvyNero,becauseofthegreatconcourseofbeautyhesaw。Ishouldliketobelovedbyeverybeautifulwomanonearth,fromtheswartNubiantothewhiteanddivineGreek。

  Wineispleasantandmeatrefreshing;butthoughIownwithabsolutehonestythatIlikethem,thesearetheleastofall。

  OfthesetwoonlyhaveIeverhadenough。Thevehemenceofexertion,thevehemenceofthespear,thevehemenceofsunlightandlife,theinsatiatedesireofinsatiateSemiramis,thestillmoreinsatiatedesireoflove,divineandbeautiful,theuncontrollableadorationofbeauty,these——these:

  givemetheseingreaterabundancethanwaseverknowntomanorwoman。ThestrengthofHercules,thefulnessofthesenses,therichnessoflife,wouldnotintheleastimpairmydesireofsoul—life。Onthereverse,witheverystrongerbeatofthepulsemydesireofsoul—lifewouldexpand。Soithaseverbeenwithme;inhardexercise,insensuouspleasure,intheembraceofthesunlight,eveninthedrinkingofaglassofwine,myhearthasbeenliftedthehighertowardsperfectionofsoul。Fulnessofphysicallifecausesadeeperdesireofsoul—life。

  Letmebephysicallyperfect,inshape,vigour,andmovement。

  Myframe,naturallyslender,willnotrespondtolabour,andincreaseinproportiontoeffort,norwillexposurehardenadelicateskin。Itdisappointsmesofar,butmyspiritriseswiththeeffort,andmythoughtopens。Thisistheonlyprofitoffrost,thepleasureofwinter,toconquercold,andtofeelbracedandstrengthenedbythatwhoseprovinceitistowitheranddestroy,makingofcold,life’senemy,life’srenewer。Theblacknorthwindhardenstheresolutionassteelistemperedinice—water。Itisasensualjoy,assensuousasthewarmembraceofthesunlight,butfulnessofphysicallifeeverbringstomeamoreeagerdesireofsoul—life。

  Splendiditistofeeltheboatrisetotheroller,orforcedthroughbythesailtoshearthefoamasidelikeashare;splendidtoundulateasthechestliesonthewave,swimming,thebrimmingoceanround:thenIknowandfeelitsdeepstrongtide,itsimmensefulness,andthesunglowingover;

  splendidtoclimbthesteepgreenhill:intheseIfeelmyself,Idrinktheexquisitejoyofthesenses,andmysoulliftsitselfwiththem。Itisbeautifuleventowatchafinehorsegallop,thelongstride,therushofthewindashepasses——myheartbeatsquickertothethudofthehoofs,andIfeelhisstrength。GladlywouldIhavethestrengthoftheTartarstallionroamingthewildsteppe;thatverystrength,whatvehemenceofsoul—thoughtwouldaccompanyit。ButIshouldlikeit,too,foritself。ForIbelieve,withallmyheart,inthebodyandtheflesh,andbelievethatitshouldbeincreasedandmademorebeautifulbyeverymeans。Ibelieve——Idomorethanthink——I

  believeittobeasacredduty,incumbentuponeveryone,manandwoman,toaddtoandencouragetheirphysicallife,byexercise,andineverymanner。Asacreddutyeachtowardshimself,andeachtowardsthewholeofthehumanrace。Eachoneofusshoulddosomelittlepartforthephysicalgoodoftherace——health,strength,vigour。hereisnoharmthereintothesoul:onthecontrary,thosewhostunttheirphysicallifearemostcertainlystuntingtheirsouls。

  Ibelieveallmannerofasceticismtobethevilestblasphemy——

  blasphemytowardsthewholeofthehumanrace。Ibelieveinthefleshandthebody,whichisworthyofworship——toseeaperfecthumanbodyunveiledcausesasenseofworship。Theasceticsaretheonlypersonswhoareimpure。Increaseofphysicalbeautyisattendedbyincreaseofsoulbeauty。Thesoulisthehighevenbygazingonbeauty。Letmebefleshlyperfect。

  ItisinmyselfthatIdesireincrease,profit,andexaltationofbody,mind,andsoul。Thesurroundings,theclothes,thedwelling,thesocialstatus,thecircumstancesaretomeutterlyindifferent。Lettheflooroftheroombebare,letthefurniturebeaplanktable,thebedamerepallet。Letthehousebeplainandsimple,butinthemidstofairandlight。Theseareenough——acavewouldbeenough;inawarmerclimatetheopenairwouldsuffice。Letmebefurnishedinmyselfwithhealth,safety,strength,theperfectionofphysicalexistence;letmymindbefurnishedwithhighestthoughtsofsoul—life。Letmebeinmyselfmyselffully。Thepageantryofpower,thestillmorefoolishpageantryofwealth,thesenselessprecedenceofplace;

  wordsfailmetoexpressmyuttercontemptforsuchpleasureorsuchambitions。Letmebeinmyselfmyselffully,andthoseI

  loveequallyso。

  Itisenoughtolieontheswardintheshadowofgreenboughs,tolistentothesongsofsummer,todrinkinthesunlight,theair,theflowers,thesky,thebeautyofall。Oruponthehill—topstowatchthewhitecloudsrisingoverthecurvedhill—lines,theirshadowsdescendingtheslope。Oronthebeachtolistentothesweetsighasthesmoothsearunsupandrecedes。Itislyingbesidetheimmortals,in—drawingthelifeoftheocean,theearth,andthesun。

  Iwanttobealwaysincompanywiththese,withearth,andsun,andsea,andstarsbynight。Thepettinessofhouse—life——chairsandtables——andthepettinessofobservances,thepettynecessityofuselesslabour,uselessbecauseproductiveofnothing,chafemetheyearthrough。I

  wanttobealwaysincompanywiththesun,andsea,andearth。These,andthestarsbynight,aremynaturalcompanions。Myheartlooksbackandsympathiseswithallthejoyandlifeofancienttime。Withthecirclingdanceburnedinstillattitudeonthevase;withthechaseandthehuntereagerlypursuing,whosejavelintremblestobethrown;withtheextremefuryoffeeling,thewhirlofjoyinthewarriorsfromMarathontothelastbattleofRome,notwiththeslaughter,butwiththepassion——thelifeinthepassion;withthegarlandsandtheflowers;withallthebreathingbuststhathavepantedbeneaththesun。Obeautifulhumanlife!TearscomeinmyeyesasIthinkofit。Sobeautiful,soinexpressiblybeautiful!

  Sodeepisthepassionoflifethat,ifitwerepossibletoliveagain,itmustbeexquisitetodiepushingtheeagerbreastagainstthesword。Intheflushofstrengthtofacethesharppainjoyously,andlaughinthelastglanceofthesun——ifonlytoliveagain,nowonearth,werepossible。Sosubtleisthechordoflifethatsometimestowatchtroopsmarchinginrhythmicorder,undulatingalongthecolumnasthefeetarelifted,bringstearsinmyeyes。

  YetcouldIhaveinmyownheartallthepassion,theloveandjoy,burnedinthebreaststhathavepanted,breathingdeeply,sincethehourofIlion,yetstillIshoulddesiremore。HowwillinglyIwouldstrewthepathsofallwithflowers;howbeautifuladelighttomaketheworldjoyous!Thesongshouldneverbesilent,thedanceneverstill,thelaughshouldsoundlikewaterwhichrunsforever。

  Iwouldsubmittoaseverediscipline,andtogowithoutmanythingscheerfully,forthegoodandhappinessofthehumanraceinthefuture。Eachoneofusshoulddosomething,howeversmall,towardsthatgreatend。Atthepresenttimethelabourofourpredecessorsinthiscountry,inallothercountriesoftheearth,isentirelywasted。Welive——thatis,wesnatchanexistence——andourworksbecomenothing。Thepilingupoffortunes,thebuildingofcities,theestablishmentofimmensecommerce,endsinacipher。TheseobjectsaresooutsidemyideathatI

  cannotunderstandthem,andlookuponthestruggleinamazement。Noteventhepressureofpovertycanforceuponmeanunderstandingof,andsympathywith,thesethings。ItisthehumanbeingasthehumanbeingofwhomI

  think。Thatthehumanbeingasthehumanbeing,nude——apartaltogetherfrommoney,clothing,houses,properties——shouldenjoygreaterhealth,strength,safety,beauty,andhappiness,IwouldgladlyagreetoadisciplinelikethatofSparta。TheSpartanmethoddidproducethefinestraceofmen,andSpartawasfamousinantiquityforthemostbeautifulwomen。Sofar,therefore,itfitsexactlytomyideas。

  Noscienceofmoderntimeshasyetdiscoveredaplantomeettherequirementsofthemillionswholivenow,noplanbywhichtheymightattainsimilarphysicalproportion。Someincreaseoflongevity,someslightimprovementinthegeneralhealthispromised,andthesearegreatthings,butfar,farbeneaththeideal。Probablythewholemodeofthoughtofthenationsmustbealteredbeforephysicalprogressispossible。Notwhilemoney,furniture,affectedshowandthepageantryofwealtharetheambitionsofthemultitudecanthemultitudebecomeidealinform。Whentheambitionofthemultitudeisfixedontheidealofformandbeauty,thenthatidealwillbecomeimmediatelypossible,andamarkedadvancetowardsitcouldbemadeinthreegenerations。Glad,indeed,shouldIbetodiscoversomethingthatwouldhelptowardsthisend。

  Howpleasantitwouldbeeachdaytothink,To—dayIhavedonesomethingthatwilltendtorenderfuturegenerationsmorehappy。Theverythoughtwouldmakethishoursweeter。Itisabsolutelynecessarythatsomethingofthiskindshouldbediscovered。First,wemustlaydowntheaxiomthatasyetnothinghasbeenfound;wehavenothingtostartwith;allhastobebegunafresh。Allcoursesormethodsofhumanlifehavehithertobeenfailures。Somecourseoflifeisneededbasedonthingsthatare,irrespectiveoftradition。Thephysicalidealmustbekeptsteadilyinview。

  CHAPTERVIII

  ANenumerationoftheuselesswouldalmostbeanenumerationofeverythinghithertopursued。Forinstance,togobackasfaraspossible,thestudyandlabourexpendedonEgyptianinscriptionsandpapyri,whichcontainnothingbutdoubtful,becauselaudatoryhistory,invocationstoidols,andsimilarmatters:alltheselaboursareinvain。

  Takeabroomandsweepthepapyriawayintothedust。TheAssyrianterra—cottatablets,somerecordingfables,andsomeevensadder——contractsbetweenmenwhosebodiesweredusttwentycenturiessince——takeahammeranddemolishthem。Setabatterytobeatdownthepyramids,andamind—batterytodestroythedeadeninginfluenceoftradition。

  TheGreekstatuelivestothisday,andhasthehighestuseofall,theuseoftruebeauty。TheGreekandRomanphilosophershavethevalueoffurnishingthemindwithmaterialtothinkfrom。EgyptianandAssyrian,mediaevalandeighteenth—centuryculture,miscalled,areallalikemeredust,andabsolutelyuseless。

  Thereisamassofknowledgesocalledatthepresentdayequallyuseless,andnothingbutanencumbrance。Weareforcedbycircumstancestobecomefamiliarwithit,butthetimeexpendedonitislost。Nophysicalideal——farlessanysoul—

  ideal——willeverbereachedbyit。Inarecentgenerationeruditioninthetextoftheclassicswasconsideredthemosthonourableofpursuits;certainlynothingcouldbelessvaluable。Inourowngeneration,anotherspeciesoferuditionislauded——eruditioninthelawsofmatter——which,initself,isbutonedegreebetter。Thestudyofmatterformatter’ssakeisdespicable;ifanycanturnthatstudytoadvancetheidealoflife,itimmediatelybecomesmostvaluable。Butnotwithoutthehumanideal。Itisnothingtomeiftheplanetsrevolvearoundthesun,orthesunaroundtheearth,unlessIcantherebygatheranincreaseofbodyormind。Astheconceptionoftheplanetsrevolvingaroundthesun,thepresentastronomicalconceptionoftheheavens,isdistinctlygranderthanthatofPtolemy,itisthereforesuperior,andagaintothehumanmind。Sowithothersciences,notimmediatelyuseful,yetiftheyfurnishthemindwithmaterialofthought,theyareanadvance。

  Butnotinthemselves——onlyinconjunctionwiththehumanideal。

  Onceletthatslipoutofthethought,andscienceisofnomoreusethantheinvocationsintheEgyptianpapyri。TheworldwouldbethegaineriftheNileroseandsweptawaypyramidandtomb,sarcophagus,papyri,andinscription;foritseemsasifmostofthesuperstitionswhichstilltothishour,inourowncountry,holdmindsintheirsway,originatedinEgypt。TheworldwouldbethegainerifaNilefloodofnewthoughtaroseandsweptawaythepast,concentratingtheeffortofalltheracesoftheearthuponman’sbody,thatitmightreachanidealofshape,andhealth,andhappiness。

  Nothingisofanyuseunlessitgivesmeastrongerbodyandmind,amorebeautifulbody,ahappyexistence,andasoul—lifenow。Thelastphaseofphilosophyisequallyuselesswiththerest。Thebeliefthatthehumanmindwasevolved,intheprocessofunnumberedyears,fromafragmentofpalpitatingslimethroughathousandgradations,isamodernsuperstition,andproceedsuponassumptionalone。

  Nothingisevolved,noevolutiontakesplace,thereisnorecordofsuchanevent;itispureassertion。Thetheoryfascinatesmany,becausetheyfind,uponstudyofphysiology,thatthegradationsbetweenanimalandvegetablearesofineandsoclosetogether,asifacommonwebboundthemtogether。Butalthoughtheystandsoneartheyneverchangeplaces。Theyarelikethefiguresonthefaceofaclock;thereareminutedotsbetween,apparentlyconnectingeachwiththeother,andthehandsmoveroundoverall。Yettenneverbecomestwelve,andeachsecondevenispartedfromthenext,asyoumayhearbylisteningtothebeat。Sothegradationsoflife,pastandpresent,thoughstandingclosetogetherneverchangeplaces。Nothingisevolved。

  Thereisnoevolutionanymorethanthereisanydesigninnature。Bystandingfacetofacewithnature,andnotfrombooks,Ihaveconvincedmyselfthatthereisnodesignandnoevolution。Whatthereis,whatwasthecause,howandwhy,isnotyetknown;certainlyitwasneitherofthese。

  Butitmaybearguedtheworldmusthavebeencreated,oritmusthavebeenmadeofexistingthings,oritmusthavebeenevolved,oritmusthaveexistedforever,throughalleternity。

  Ithinknot。Idonotthinkthateitheroftheseare\"musts,\"northatany\"must\"hasyetbeendiscovered;noteventhatthere\"must\"beafirstcause。

  Theremaybeotherthings——otherphysicalforceseven——ofwhichweknownothing。Istronglysuspectthereare。Theremaybeotherideasaltogetherfromanywehavehithertohadtheuseof。Formanyagesourideashavebeenconfinedtotwoorthree。Wehaveconceivedtheideaofcreation,whichisthehighestandgrandestofall,ifnothistoricallytrue;wehaveconceivedtheideaofdesign,thatisofanintelligencemakingorderandrevolutionofchaos;andwehaveconceivedtheideaofevolutionbyphysicallawsofmatter,which,thoughnowsomuchinsistedon,isasancientastheGreekphilosophers。Buttheremaybeanotheralternative;Ithinkthereareotheralternatives。

  Wheneverthemindobtainsawiderviewwemayfindthatorigin。

  forinstance,isnotalwaysduetowhatisunderstoodbycause。

  Atthismomentthemindisunabletoconceiveofanythinghappening,orofanythingcomingintoexistence,withoutacause。Fromcausetoeffectisthesequenceofourideas。ButIthinkthatifatsometimeweshouldobtainanaltogetherdifferentandbroadersequenceofideas,wemaydiscoverthattherearevariousotheralternatives。Astheworld,andtheuniverseatlarge,wasnotconstructedaccordingtoplan,soitisclearthatthesequenceorcircleofideaswhichincludesplan,andcause,andeffect,arenotinthecircleofideaswhichwouldcorrectlyexplainit。Putasidetheplan—circleofideas,anditwillatoncebeevidentthatthereisnoinherentnecessityor\"must。\"Thereisnoinherentnecessityforafirstcause,orthattheworldandtheuniversewascreated,orthatitwasshapedofexistingmatter,orthatitevolveditselfanditsinhabitants,orthatthecosmoshasexistedinvaryingformsforever。Theremaybeotheralternativesaltogether。TheonlyideaIcangiveistheideathatthereisanotheridea。

  Inthis\"must\"——\"itmustfollow\"——liesmyobjectiontothelogicofscience。

  Theargumentsproceedfrompremisestoconclusions,andendwiththeassumption\"itthereforefollows。\"ButIsaythat,howevercarefullytheargumentbebuiltup,eventhoughapparentlyflawless,thereisnosuchthingatpresentas\"itmustfollow。\"Humanideasatpresentnaturallyformaplan,andabalanceddesign;theymightbeindicatedbyageometricalfigure,anuprightstraightlineinthecentre,andbranchingfromthatstraightlinecurvesoneitherhandexactlyequaltoeachother。Indrawingthatishowwearetaught,tobalancetheoutlineorcurvesononesidewiththecurvesontheother。Innatureandinfactthereisnosuchthing。Thestemofatreerepresentstheuprightline,butthebranchesdonotbalance;

  thoseononesidearelargerorlongerthanthoseontheother。Nothingisstraight,butallthingscurved,crooked,andunequal。

  Thehumanbodyisthemostremarkableinstanceofinequality,lackofbalance,andwantofplan。Theexteriorisbeautifulinitslines,butthetwohands,thetwofeet,thetwosidesoftheface,thetwosidesoftheprofile,arenotpreciselyequal。

  Theverynailsofthefingersaresetajar,asitwere,tothelinesofthehand,andnotquitestraight。Examinationoftheinteriororgansshowsatotalabsenceofbalance。Theheartisnotinthecentre,nordotheorganscorrespondinanyway。Thevisceraarewhollyopposedtoplan。

  Coming,lastly,tothebones,thesehavenohumanity,asitwere,ofshape;

  theyareneitherroundnorsquare;thefirstsightofthemcausesasenseofhorror,soextra—humanaretheyinshape;thereisnobalanceofdesigninthem。Theseareverybriefexamples,butthewholeuniverse,sofarasitcanbeinvestigated,isequallyunequal。Nostraightlinerunsthroughit,withbalancedcurveseachside。

  Letthisthoughtnowbecarriedintotherealmsofthought。Themind,orcircle,orsequenceofideas,acts,orthinks,orexistsinabalance,orwhatseemsabalancetoit。Astraightlineofthoughtissetinthecentre,withequalbrancheseachside,andwithagenerallyroundedoutline。

  Butthiscorrespondstonothingintangiblefact。HenceI

  think,byanalogy,wemaysupposethatneitherdoesitcorrespondtothecircleofideaswhichcausedusandallthingstobe,or,atallevents,tothecircleofideaswhichaccuratelyunderstandusandallthings。Thereareotherideasaltogether。

  >Fromstandingfacetofacesolongwiththerealearth,therealsun,andtherealsea,Iamfirmlyconvincedthatthereisanimmenserangeofthoughtquiteunknowntousyet。

  Theproblemofmyownexistencealsoconvincesmethatthereismuchmore。

  Thequestionsare:Didmysoulexistbeforemybodywasformed?Ordiditcomeintolifewithmybody,asaproduct,likeaflame,ofcombustion?Whatwillbecomeofitafterdeath?Willitsimplygooutlikeaflameandbecomenon—existent,orwillitliveforeverinoneorothermode?TothesequestionsIamunabletofindanyanswerwhatsoever。Inourpresentrangeofideasthereisnoreplytothem。Imayhavepreviouslyexisted;Imaynothavepreviouslyexisted。Imaybeaproductofcombustion;Imayexistonafterphysicallifeissuspended,orImaynot。Nodemonstrationispossible。ButwhatIwanttosayisthatthealternativesofextinctionorimmortalitymaynotbetheonlyalternatives。Theremaybesomethingelse,morewonderfulthanimmortality,andfarbeyondandabovethatidea。

  Theremaybesomethingimmeasurablysuperiortoit。Asourideashaverunincirclesforcenturies,itisdifficulttofindwordstoexpresstheideathatthereareotherideas。Formyself,thoughIcannotfullyexpressmyself,Ifeelfullyconvincedthatthereisavastimmensityofthought,ofexistence,andofotherthingsbeyondevenimmortalexistence。

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