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diff --git a/old/2317.txt b/old/2317.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2188482..0000000 --- a/old/2317.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3311 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of My Heart, by Richard Jefferies - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Story of My Heart - -Author: Richard Jefferies - -Posting Date: January 25, 2013 [EBook #2317] -Release Date: September, 2000 -First Posted: November 2, 1999 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF MY HEART *** - - - - -Produced by Susan L. Farley - - - - - - - - - -THE STORY OF MY HEART - -AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY - - -by - -RICHARD JEFFERIES - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE story of my heart commences seventeen years ago. In the glow of -youth there were times every now and then when I felt the necessity of -a strong inspiration of soul-thought. My heart was dusty, parched for -want of the rain of deep feeling; my mind arid and dry, for there is a -dust which settles on the heart as well as that which falls on a ledge. -It is injurious to the mind as well as to the body to be always in one -place and always surrounded by the same circumstances. A species of -thick clothing slowly grows about the mind, the pores are choked, -little habits become a part of existence, and by degrees the mind is -inclosed in a husk. When this began to form I felt eager to escape -from it, to throw off the heavy clothing, to drink deeply once more at -the fresh foundations of life. An inspiration--a long deep breath of -the pure air of thought--could alone give health to the heart. - -There is a hill to which I used to resort at such periods. The labour -of walking three miles to it, all the while gradually ascending, seemed -to clear my blood of the heaviness accumulated at home. On a warm -summer day the slow continued rise required continual effort, which -caried away the sense of oppression. The familiar everyday scene was -soon out of sight; I came to other trees, meadows, and fields; I began -to breathe a new air and to have a fresher aspiration. I restrained -my soul till reached the sward of the hill; psyche, the soul that -longed to be loose. I would write psyche always instead of soul to -avoid meanings which have become attached to the word soul, but it is -awkward to do so. Clumsy indeed are all words the moment the wooden -stage of commonplace life is left. I restrained psyche, my soul, till -I reached and put my foot on the grass at the beginning of the green -hill itself. - -Moving up the sweet short turf, at every step my heart seemed to obtain -a wider horizon of feeling; with every inhalation of rich pure air, a -deeper desire. The very light of the sun was whiter and more brilliant -here. By the time I had reached the summit I had entirely forgotten -the petty circumstances and the annoyances of existence. I felt -myself, myself. There was an intrenchment on the summit, and going -down into the fosse I walked round it slowly to recover breath. On the -south-western side there was a spot where the outer bank had partially -slipped, leaving a gap. There the view was over a broad plain, -beautiful with wheat, and inclosed by a perfect amphitheatre of green -hills. Through these hills there was one narrow groove, or pass, -southwards, where the white clouds seemed to close in the horizon. -Woods hid the scattered hamlets and farmhouses, so that I was quite -alone. - -I was utterly alone with the sun and the earth. Lying down on the -grass, I spoke in my soul to the earth, the sun, the air, and the -distant sea far beyond sight. I thought of the earth's firmness--I -felt it bear me up: through the grassy couch there came an influence as -if I could feel the great earth speaking to me. I thought of the -wandering air--its pureness, which is its beauty; the air touched me -and gave me something of itself. I spoke to the sea: though so far, in -my mind I saw it, green at the rim of the earth and blue in deeper -ocean; I desired to have its strength, its mystery and glory. Then I -addressed the sun, desiring the soul equivalent of his light and -brilliance, his endurance and unwearied race. I turned to the blue -heaven over, gazing into its depth, inhaling its exquisite colour and -sweetness. The rich blue of the unattainable flower of the sky drew my -soul towards it, and there it rested, I for pure colour is rest of -heart. By all these I prayed; I felt an emotion of the soul beyond all -definition; prayer is a puny thing to it, and the word is a rude sign -to the feeling, but I know no other. - -By the blue heaven, by the rolling sun bursting through untrodden -space, a new ocean of ether every day unveiled. By the fresh and -wandering air encompassing the world; by the sea sounding on the -shore--the green sea white-flecked at the margin and the deep ocean; by -the strong earth under me. Then, returning, I prayed by the sweet -thyme, whose little flowers I touched with my hand; by the slender -grass; by the crumble of dry chalky earth I took up and let fall -through my fingers. Touching the crumble of earth, the blade of grass, -the thyme flower, breathing the earth-encircling air, thinking of the -sea and the sky, holding out my hand for the sunbeams to touch it, -prone on the sward in token of deep reverence, thus I prayed that I -might touch to the unutterable existence infinitely higher than deity. - -With all the intensity of feeling which exalted me, all the intense -communion I held with the earth, the sun and sky, the stars hidden by -the light, with the ocean--in no manner can the thrilling depth of -these feelings be written--with these I prayed, as if they were the -keys of an instrument, of an organ, with which I swelled forth the note -of my soul, redoubling my own voice by their power. The great sun -burning with light; the strong earth, dear earth; the warm sky; the -pure air; the thought of ocean; the inexpressible beauty of all filled -me with a rapture, an ecstasy, and inflatus. With this inflatus, too, -I prayed. Next to myself I came and recalled myself, my bodily -existence. I held out my hand, the sunlight gleamed on the skin and the -iridescent nails; I recalled the mystery and beauty of the flesh. I -thought of the mind with which I could see the ocean sixty miles -distant, and gather to myself its glory. I thought of my inner -existence, that consciousness which is called the soul. These, that -is, myself--I threw into the balance to weight the prayer the heavier. -My strength of body, mind and soul, I flung into it; I but forth my -strength; I wrestled and laboured, and toiled in might of prayer. The -prayer, this soul-emotion was in itself-not for an object-it was a -passion. I hid my face in the grass, I was wholly prostrated, I lost -myself in the wrestle, I was rapt and carried away. - -Becoming calmer, I returned to myself and thought, reclining in rapt -thought, full of aspiration, steeped to the lips of my soul in desire. -I did not then define, or analyses, or understand this. I see now that -what I laboured for was soul-life, more soul-nature, to be exalted, to -be full of soul-learning. Finally I rose, walked half a mile or so -along the summit of the hill eastwards, to soothe myself and come to -the common ways of life again. Had any shepherd accidentally seen me -lying on the turf, he would only have thought that I was resting a few -minutes; I made no outward show. Who could have imagined the whirlwind -of passion that was going on within me as I reclined there! I was -greatly exhausted when I reached home. Occasionally I went upon the -hill deliberately, deeming it good to do so; then, again, this craving -carried me away up there of itself. Though the principal feeling was -the same, there were variations in the mode in which it affected me. - -Sometimes on lying down on the sward I first looked up at the sky, -gazing for a long time till I could see deep into the azure and my eyes -were full of the colour; then I turned my face to the grass and thyme, -placing my hands at each side of my face so as to shut out everything -and hide myself. Having drunk deeply of the heaven above and felt the -most glorious beauty of the day, and remembering the old, old, sea, -which (as it seemed to me) was but just yonder at the edge, I now -became lost, and absorbed into the being or existence of the universe. -I felt down deep into the earth under, and high above into the sky, and -farther still to the sun and stars. Still farther beyond the stars -into the hollow of space, and losing thus my separateness of being came -to seem like a part of the whole. Then I whisper-ed to the earth -beneath, through the grass and thyme, down into the depth of its ear, -and again up to the starry space hid behind the blue of day. -Travelling in an instant across the distant sea, I saw as if with -actual vision the palms and cocoanut trees, the bamboos of India, and -the cedars of the extreme south. Like a lake with islands the ocean -lay before me, as clear and vivid as the plain beneath in the midst of -the amphitheatre of hills. - -With the glory of the great sea, I said, with the firm, solid, and -sustaining earth; the depth, distance, and expanse of ether; the age, -tamelessness, and ceaseless motion of the ocean; the stars, and the -unknown in space; by all those things which are most powerful known to -me, and by those which exist, but of which I have no idea whatever, I -pray. Further, by my own soul, that secret existence which above all -other things bears the nearest resemblance to the ideal of spirit, -infinitely nearer than earth, sun, or star. Speaking by an inclination -towards, not in words, my soul prays that I may have something from -each of these, that I may gather a flower from them, that I may have in -myself the secret and meaning of the earth, the golden sun, the light, -the foam-flecked sea. Let my soul become enlarged; I am not enough; I -am little and contemptible. I desire a great-ness of soul, an -irradiance of mind, a deeper insight, a broader hope. Give me power of -soul, so that I may actually effect by its will that which I strive for. - -In winter, though I could not then rest on the grass, or stay long -enough to form any definite expression, I still went up to the hill -once now and then, for it seemed that to merely visit the spot repeated -all that I had previously said. But it was not only then. - -In summer I went out into the fields, and let my soul inspire these -thoughts under the trees, standing against the trunk, or looking up -through the branches at the sky. If trees could speak, hundreds of -them would say that I had had these soul-emotions under them. Leaning -against the oak's massive trunk, and feeling the rough bark and the -lichen at my back, looking southwards over the grassy fields, -cowslip-yellow, at the woods on the slope, I thought my desire of -deeper soul-life. Or under the green firs, looking upwards, the sky -was more deeply blue at their tops; then the brake fern was unrolling, -the doves cooing, the thickets astir, the late ash-leaves coming forth. -Under the shapely rounded elms, by the hawthorn bushes and hazel, -everywhere the same deep desire for the soul-nature; to have from all -green things and from the sunlight the inner meaning which was not -known to them, that I might be full of light as the woods of the sun's -rays. Just to touch the lichened bark of a tree, or the end of a spray -projecting over the path as I walked, seemed to repeat the same prayer -in me. - -The long-lived summer days dried and warmed the turf in the meadows. I -used to lie down in solitary corners at full length on my back, so as -to feel the embrace of the earth. The grass stood high above me, and -the shadows of the tree-branches danced on my face. I looked up at the -sky, with half-closed eyes to bear the dazzling light. Bees buzzed over -me, sometimes a butterfly passed, there was a hum in the air, -greenfinches sang in the hedge. Gradually entering into the intense -life of the summer days--a life which burned around as if every grass -blade and leaf were a torch--I came to feel the long-drawn life of the -earth back into the dimmest past, while the sun of the moment was warm -on me. Sesostris on the most ancient sands of the south, in ancient, -ancient days, was conscious of himself and of the sun. This sunlight -linked me through the ages to that past consciousness. From all the -ages my soul desired to take that soul-life which had flowed through -them as the sunbeams had continually poured on earth. As the hot sands -take up the heat, so would I take up that soul-energy. Dreamy in -appearance, I was breathing full of existence; I was aware of the grass -blades, the flowers, the leaves on hawthorn and tree. I seemed to -live more largely through them, as if each were a pore through which I -drank. The grasshoppers called and leaped, the greenfinches sang, the -blackbirds happily fluted, all the air hummed with life. I was plunged -deep in existence, and with all that existence I prayed. - -Through every grass blade in the thousand, thousand grasses; through -the million leaves, veined and edge-cut, on bush and tree; through the -song-notes and the marked feathers of the birds; through the insects' -hum and the colour of the butterflies; through the soft warm air, the -flecks of clouds dissolving--I used them all for prayer. With all the -energy the sunbeams had poured unwearied on the earth since Sesostris -was conscious of them on the ancient sands; with all the life that had -been lived by vigorous man and beauteous woman since first in dearest -Greece the dream of the gods was woven; with all the soul-life that had -flowed a long stream down to me, I prayed that I might have a soul more -than equal to, far beyond my conception of, these things of the past, -the present, and the fulness of all life. Not only equal to these, but -beyond, higher, and more powerful than I could imagine. That I might -take from all their energy, grandeur, and beauty, and gather it into -me. That my soul might be more than the cosmos of life. - -I prayed with the glowing clouds of sun-set and the soft light of the -first star coming through the violet sky. At night with the stars, -according to the season: now with the Pleiades, now with the Swan or -burning Sirius, and broad Orion's whole constellation, red Aldebaran, -Arcturus, and the Northern Crown; with the morning star, the -light-bringer, once now and then when I saw it, a white-gold ball in the -violet-purple sky, or framed about with pale summer vapour floating -away as red streaks shot horizontally in the east. A diffused saffron -ascended into the luminous upper azure. The disk of the sun rose over -the hill, fluctuating with throbs of light; his chest heaved in fervour -of brilliance. All the glory of the sunrise filled me with broader and -furnace-like vehemence of prayer. That I might have the deepest of -soul-life, the deepest of all, deeper far than all this greatness of -the visible universe and even of the invisible; that I might have a -fulness of soul till now unknown, and utterly beyond my own conception. - -In the deepest darkness of the night the same thought rose in my mind -as in the bright light of noontide. What is there which I have not -used to strengthen the same emotion? - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -SOMETIMES I went to a deep, narrow valley in the hills, silent and -solitary. The sky crossed from side to side, like a roof supported on -two walls of green. Sparrows chirped in the wheat at the verge above, -their calls falling like the twittering of swallows from the air. -There was no other sound. The short grass was dried grey as it grew by -the heat; the sun hung over the narrow vale as if it had been put there -by hand. Burning, burning, the sun glowed on the sward at the foot of -the slope where these thoughts burned into me. How many, many years, -how many cycles of years, how many bundles of cycles of years, had the -sun glowed down thus on that hollow? Since it was formed how long? -Since it was worn and shaped, groove-like, in the flanks of the hills -by mighty forces which had ebbed. Alone with the sun which glowed on -the work when it was done, I saw back through space to the old time of -tree-ferns, of the lizard flying through the air, the lizard-dragon -wallowing in sea foam, the mountainous creatures, twice-elephantine, -feeding on land; all the crooked sequence of life. The dragon-fly -which passed me traced a continuous descent from the fly marked on -stone in those days. The immense time lifted me like a wave rolling -under a boat; my mind seemed to raise itself as the swell of the cycles -came; it felt strong with the power of the ages. With all that time and -power I prayed: that I might have in my soul the intellectual part of -it; the idea, the thought. Like a shuttle the mind shot to and fro the -past and the present, in an instant. - -Full to the brim of the wondrous past, I felt the wondrous present. -For the day--the very moment I breathed, that second of time then in -the valley, was as marvellous, as grand, as all that had gone before. -Now, this moment was the wonder and the glory. Now, this moment was -exceedingly wonderful. Now, this moment give me all the thought, all -the idea, ali the soul expressed in the cosmos around me. Give me -still more, for the interminable universe, past and present, is but -earth; give me the unknown soul, wholly apart from it, the soul of -which I know only that when I touch the ground, when the sunlight -touches my hand, it is not there. Therefore the heart looks into space -to be away from earth. With all the cycles, and the sunlight streaming -through them, with all that is meant by the present, I thought in the -deep vale and prayed. - -There was a secluded spring to which I sometimes went to drink the pure -water, lifting it in the hollow of my hand. Drinking the lucid water, -clear as light itself in solution, I absorbed the beauty and purity of -it. I drank the thought of the element; I desired soul-nature pure and -limpid. When I saw the sparkling dew on the grass--a rainbow broken -into drops--it called up the same thought-prayer. The stormy wind -whose sudden twists laid the trees on the ground woke the same feeling; -my heart shouted with it. The soft summer air which entered when I -opened my window in the morning breathed the same sweet desire. At -night, before sleeping, I always looked out at the shadowy trees, the -hills looming indistinctly in the dark, a star seen between the -drifting clouds; prayer of soul-life always. I chose the highest room, -bare and gaunt, because as I sat at work I could look out and see more -of the wide earth, more of the dome of the sky, and could think my -desire through these. When the crescent of the new moon shone, all the -old thoughts were renewed. - -All the succeeding incidents of the year repeated my prayer as I noted -them. The first green leaf on the hawthorn, the first spike of meadow -grass, the first song of the nightingale, the green ear of wheat. I -spoke it with the ear of wheat as the sun tinted it golden; with the -whitening barley; again with the red gold spots of autumn on the beech, -the buff oak leaves, and the gossamer dew-weighted. All the larks over -the green corn sang it for me, all the dear swallows; the green leaves -rustled it; the green brook flags waved it; the swallows took it with -them to repeat it for me in distant lands. By the running brook I -meditated it; a flash of sunlight here in the curve, a flicker yonder on -the ripples, the birds bathing in the sandy shallow, the rush of -falling water. As the brook ran winding through the meadow, so one -thought ran winding through my days. - -The sciences I studied never checked it for a moment; nor did the books -of old philosophy. The sun was stronger than science; the hills more -than philosophy. Twice circumstances gave me a brief view of the sea -then the passion rose tumultuous as the waves. It was very bitter to -me to leave the sea. - -Sometimes I spent the whole day walking over the hills searching for -it; as if the labour of walking would force it from the ground. I -remained in the woods for hours, among the ash sprays and the -fluttering of the ring-doves at their nests, the scent of pines here -and there, dreaming my prayer. - -My work was most uncongenial and useless, but even then sometimes a -gleam of sunlight on the wall, the buzz of a bee at the window, would -bring the thought to me. Only to make me miserable, for it was a waste -of golden time while the rich sunlight streamed on hill and plain. -There was a wrenching of the mind, a straining of the mental sinews; I -was forced to do this, my mind was yonder. Weariness, exhaustion, -nerve-illness often ensued. The insults which are showered on poverty, -long struggle of labour, the heavy pressure of circumstances, the -unhappiness, only stayed the expression of the feeling. It was always -there. Often in the streets of London, as the red sunset flamed over -the houses, the old thought, the old prayer, came. - -Not only in grassy fields with green leaf and running brook did this -constant desire find renewal. More deeply still with living human -beauty; the perfection of form, the simple fact of form, ravished and -always will ravish me away. In this lies the outcome and end of all the -loveliness of sunshine and green leaf, of flowers, pure water, and -sweet air. This is embodiment and highest ex-pression; the scattered, -uncertain, and designless loveliness of tree and sunlight brought to -shape. Through this beauty I prayed deepest and longest, and down to -this hour. The shape--the divine idea of that shape--the swelling -muscle or the dreamy limb, strong sinew or curve of bust, Aphrodite or -Hercules, it is the same. That I may have the soul-life, the -soul-nature, let divine beauty bring to me divine soul. Swart Nubian, -white Greek, delicate Italian, massive Scandinavian, in all the -exquisite pleasure the form gave, and gives, to me immediately becomes -intense prayer. - -If I could have been in physical shape like these, how despicable in -comparison I am; to be shapely of form is so infinitely beyond wealth, -power, fame, all that ambition can give, that these are dust before it. -Unless of the human form, no pictures hold me; the rest are flat -surfaces. So, too, with the other arts, they are dead; the potters, -the architects, meaningless, stony, and some repellent, like the cold -touch of porcelain. No prayer with these. Only the human form in art -could raise it, and most in statuary. I have seen so little good -statuary, it is a regret to me; still, that I have is beyond all other -art. Fragments here, a bust yonder, the broken pieces brought from -Greece, copies, plaster casts, a memory of an Aphrodite, of a -Persephone, of an Apollo, that is all; but even drawings of statuary -will raise the prayer. These statues were like myself full of a -thought, for ever about to burst forth as a bud, yet silent in the same -attitude. Give me to live the soul-life they express. The smallest -fragment of marble carved in the shape of the human arm will wake the -desire I felt in my hill-prayer. - -Time went on; good fortune and success never for an instant deceived me -that they were in themselves to be sought; only my soul-thought was -worthy. Further years bringing much suffering, grinding the very life -out; new troubles, renewed insults, loss of what hard labour had -earned, the bitter question: Is it not better to leap into the sea? -These, too, have made no impression; constant still to the former -prayer my mind endures. It was my chief regret that I had not -endeavoured to write these things, to give expression to this passion. -I am now trying, but I see that I shall only in part succeed. - -The same prayer comes to me at this very hour. It is now less solely -associated with the sun and sea, hills, woods, or beauteous human -shape. It is always within. It requires no waking; no renewal; it is -always with me. I am it; the fact of my existence expresses it. - -After a long interval I came to the hills again, this time by the -coast. I found a deep hollow on the side of a great hill, a green -concave opening to the sea, where I could rest and think in perfect -quiet. Behind me were furze bushes dried by the heat; immediately in -front dropped the steep descent of the bowl-like hollow which received -and brought up to me the faint sound of the summer waves. Yonder lay -the immense plain of sea, the palest green under the continued -sunshine, as though the heat had evaporated the colour from it; there -was no distinct horizon, a heat-mist inclosed it and looked farther -away than the horizon would have done. Silence and sunshine, sea and -hill gradually brought my mind into the condition of intense prayer. -Day after day, for hours at a time, I came there, my soul-desire always -the same. Presently I began to consider how I could put a part of that -prayer into form, giving it an object. Could I bring it into such a -shape as would admit of actually working upon the lines it indicated -for any good? - -One evening, when the bright white star in Lyra was shining almost at -the zenith over me, and the deep concave was the more profound in the -dusk, I formulated it into three divisions. First, I desired that I -might do or find something to exalt the soul, something to enable it to -live its own life, a more powerful existence now. Secondly, I desired -to be able to do something for the flesh, to make a discovery or -perfect a method by which the fleshly body might enjoy more pleasure, -longer life, and suffer less pain. Thirdly, to construct a more -flexible engine with which to carry into execution the design of the -will. I called this the Lyra prayer, to distinguish it from the far -deeper emotion in which the soul was alone concerned. - -Of the three divisions, the last was of so little importance that it -scarcely deserved to be named in conjunction with the others. -Mechanism increases convenience--in no degree does it confer physical -or moral perfection. The rudimentary engines employed thousands of -years ago in raising buildings were in that respect equal to the -complicated machines of the present day. Control of iron and steel has -not altered or improved the bodily man. I even debated some time -whether such a third division should be included at all. Our bodies -are now conveyed all round the world with ease, but obtain no -advantage. As they start so they return. The most perfect human -families of ancient times were almost stationary, as those of Greece. -Perfection of form was found in Sparta; how small a spot compared to -those continents over which we are now taken so quickly! Such -perfection of form might perhaps again dwell, contented and complete in -itself, on such a strip of land as I could see between me and the sand -of the sea. Again, a watch keeping correct time is no guarantee that -the bearer shall not suffer pain. The owner of the watch may be -soulless, without mind-fire, a mere creature. No benefit to the heart -or to the body accrues from the most accurate mechanism. Hence I -debated whether the third division should be included. But I reflected -that time cannot be put back on the dial, we cannot return to Sparta; -there is an existent state of things, and existent multitudes; and -possibly a more powerful engine, flexible to the will, might give them -that freedom which is the one, and the one only, political or social -idea I possess. For liberty, therefore, let it be included. - -For the flesh, this arm of mine, the limbs of others gracefully moving, -let me find something that will give them greater perfection. That the -bones may be firmer, somewhat larger if that would be an advantage, -certainly stronger, that the cartilage and sinews may be more enduring, -and the muscles more powerful, something after the manner of those -ideal limbs and muscles sculptured of old, these in the flesh and real. -That the organs of the body may be stronger in their action, perfect, -and lasting. That the exterior flesh may be yet more beautiful; that -the shape may be finer, and the motions graceful. These are the -soberest words I can find, purposely chosen; for I am so rapt in the -beauty of the human form, and so earnestly, so inexpressibly, prayerful -to see that form perfect, that my full thought is not to be written. -Unable to express it fully, I have considered it best to put it in the -simplest manner of words. I believe in the human form; let me find -something, some method, by which that form may achieve the utmost -beauty. Its beauty is like an arrow, which may be shot any distance -according to the strength of the bow. So the idea expressed in the -human shape is capable of indefinite expansion and elevation of beauty. - -Of the mind, the inner consciousness, the soul, my prayer desired that -I might discover a mode of life for it, so that it might not only -conceive of such a life, but actually enjoy it on the earth. I wished -to search out a new and higher set of ideas on which the mind should -work. The simile of a new book of the soul is the nearest to convey -the meaning--a book drawn from the present and future, not the past. -Instead of a set of ideas based on tradition, let me give the mind a -new thought drawn straight from the wondrous present, direct this very -hour. Next, to furnish the soul with the means of executing its will, -of carrying thought into action. In other words, for the soul to -become a power. These three formed the Lyra prayer, of which the two -first are immeasurably the in more important. I believe in the human -being, mind and flesh; form and soul. - -It happened just afterwards that I went to Pevensey, and immediately -the ancient wall swept my mind back seventeen hundred years to the -eagle, the pilum, and the short sword. The grey stones, the thin red -bricks laid by those whose eyes had seen Caesar's Rome, lifted me out -of the grasp of house-life, of modern civilisation, of those minutiae -which occupy the moment. The grey stone made me feel as if I had -existed from then till now, so strongly did I enter into and see my own -life as if reflected. My own existence was focused back on me; I saw -its joy, its unhappiness, its birth, its death, its possibilities among -the infinite, above all its yearning Question. Why? Seeing it thus -clearly, and lifted out of the moment by the force of seventeen -centuries, I recognised the full mystery and the depths of things in -the roots of the dry grass on the wall, in the green sea flowing near. -Is there anything I can do? The mystery and the possibilities are not -in the roots of the grass, nor is the depth of things in the sea; they -are in my existence, in my soul. The marvel of existence, almost the -terror of it, was flung on me with crushing force by the sea, the sun -shining, the distant hills. With all their ponderous weight they made -me feel myself: all the time, all the centuries made me feel myself -this moment a hundred-fold. I determined that I would endeavour to -write what I had so long thought of, and the same evening put down one -sentence. There the sentence remained two years. I tried to carry it -on; I hesitated because I could not express it: nor can I now, though -in desperation I am throwing these rude stones of thought together, -rude as those of the ancient wall. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -THERE were grass-grown tumuli on the hills to which of old I used to -walk, sit down at the foot of one of them, and think. Some warrior had -been interred there in the antehistoric times. The sun of the summer -morning shone on the dome of sward, and the air came softly up from the -wheat below, the tips of the grasses swayed as it passed sighing -faintly, it ceased, and the bees hummed by to the thyme and heathbells. -I became absorbed in the glory of the day, the sunshine, the sweet air, -the yellowing corn turning from its sappy green to summer's noon of -gold, the lark's song like a waterfall in the sky. I felt at that -moment that I was like the spirit of the man whose body was interred in -the tumulus; I could understand and feel his existence the same as my -own. He was as real to me two thousand years after interment as those -I had seen in the body. The abstract personality of the dead seemed as -existent as thought. As my thought could slip back the twenty -centuries in a moment to the forest-days when he hurled the spear, or -shot with the bow, hunting the deer, and could return again as swiftly -to this moment, so his spirit could endure from then till now, and the -time was nothing. - -Two thousand years being a second to the soul could not cause its -extinction. It was no longer to the soul than my thought occupied to -me. Recognising my own inner consciousness, the psyche, so clearly, -death did not seem to me to affect the personality. In dissolution -there was no bridgeless chasm, no unfathomable gulf of separation; the -spirit did not immediately become inaccessible, leaping at a bound to an -immeasurable distance. Look at another person while living; the soul -is not visible, only the body which it animates. Therefore, merely -because after death the soul is not visible is no demonstration that it -does not still live. The condition of being unseen is the same -condition which occurs while the body is living, so that intrinsically -there is nothing exceptionable, or supernatural, in the life of the -soul after death. Resting by the tumulus, the spirit of the man who -had been interred there was to me really alive, and very close. This -was quite natural, as natural and simple as the grass waving in the -wind, the bees humming, and the larks' songs. Only by the strongest -effort of the mind could I understand the idea of extinction; that was -supernatural, requiring a miracle; the immortality of the soul natural, -like earth. Listening to the sighing of the grass I felt immortality -as I felt the beauty of the summer morning, and I thought beyond -immortality, of other conditions, more beautiful than existence, higher -than immortality. - -That there is no knowing, in the sense of written reasons, whether the -soul lives on or not, I am fully aware. I do not hope or fear. At -least while I am living I have enjoyed the idea of immortality, and the -idea of my own soul. If then, after death, I am resolved without -exception into earth, air, and water, and the spirit goes out like a -flame, still I shall have had the glory of that thought. - -It happened once that a man was drowned while bathing, and his body was -placed in an outhouse near the garden. I passed the outhouse -continually, sometimes on purpose to think about it, and it always -seemed to me that the man was still living. Separation is not to be -comprehended; the spirit of the man did not appear to have gone to an -in conceivable distance. As my thought flashes itself back through the -centuries to the luxury of Canopus, and can see the gilded couches of a -city extinct, so it slips through the future, and immeasurable time in -front is no boundary to it. Certainly the man was not dead to me. - -Sweetly the summer air came up to the tumulus, the grass sighed softly, -the butterflies went by, sometimes alighting on the green dome. Two -thousand years! Summer after summer the blue butterflies had visited -the mound, the thyme had flowered, the wind sighed in the grass. The -azure morning had spread its arms over the low tomb; and full glowing -noon burned on it; the purple of sunset rosied the sward. Stars, ruddy -in the vapour of the southern horizon, beamed at midnight through the -mystic summer night, which is dusky and yet full of light. White mists -swept up and hid it; dews rested on the turf; tender harebells drooped; -the wings of the finches fanned the air--finches whose colours faded -from the wings how many centuries ago! Brown autumn dwelt in the woods -beneath; the rime of winter whitened the beech clump on the ridge; -again the buds came on the wind-blown hawthorn bushes, and in the -evening the broad constellation of Orion covered the east. Two -thousand times! Two thousand times the woods grew green, and ring-doves -built their nests. Day and night for two thousand years--light and -shadow sweeping over the mound--two thousand years of labour by day and -slumber by night. Mystery gleaming in the stars, pouring down in the -sunshine, speaking in the night, the wonder of the sun and of far -space, for twenty centuries round about this low and green-grown dome. -Yet all that mystery and wonder is as nothing to the Thought that lies -therein, to the spirit that I feel so close. - -Realising that spirit, recognising my own inner consciousness, the -psyche, so clearly, I cannot understand time. It is eternity now. I -am in the midst of it. It is about me in the sunshine; I am in it, as -the butterfly floats in the light-laden air. Nothing has to come; it -is now. Now is eternity; now is the immortal life. Here this moment, -by this tumulus, on earth, now; I exist in it. The years, the -centuries, the cycles are absolutely nothing; it is only a moment since -this tumulus was raised; in a thousand years it will still be only a -moment. To the soul there is no past and no future; all is and will be -ever, in now. For artificial purposes time is mutually agreed on, but -is really no such thing. The shadow goes on upon the dial, the index -moves round upon the clock, and what is the difference? None whatever. -If the clock had never been set going, what would have been the -difference? There may be time for the clock, the clock may make time -for itself; there is none for me. - -I dip my hand in the brook and feel the stream; in an instant the -particles of water which first touched me have floated yards down the -current, my hand remains there. I take my hand away, and the flow--the -time--of the brook does not exist to me. The great clock of the -firmament, the sun and the stars, the crescent moon, the earth circling -two thousand times, is no more to me than the flow of the brook when my -hand is withdrawn; my soul has never been, and never can be, dipped in -time. Time has never existed, and never will; it is a purely -artificial arrangement. It is eternity now, it always was eternity, -and always will be. By no possible means could I get into time if I -tried. I am in eternity now and must there remain. Haste not, be at -rest, this Now is eternity. Because the idea of time has left my -mind--if ever it had any hold on it--to me the man interred in the -tumulus is living now as I live. We are both in eternity. - -There is no separation-no past; eternity, the Now, is continuous. When -all the stars have revolved they only produce Now again. The -continuity of Now is for ever. So that it appears to me purely -natural, and not super natural, that the soul whose temporary frame was -interred in this mound should be existing as I sit on the sward. How -infinitely deeper is thought than the million miles of the firmament! -The wonder is here, not there; now, not to be, now always. Things that -have been miscalled supernatural appear to me simple, more natural than -nature, than earth, than sea, or sun. It is beyond telling more -natural that I should have a soul than not, that there should be -immortality; I think there is much more than immortality. It is matter -which is the supernatural, and difficult of under-standing. Why this -clod of earth I hold in my hand? Why this water which drops sparkling -from my fingers dipped in the brook? Why are they at all? When? How? -What for? Matter is beyond understanding, mysterious, impenetrable; I -touch it easily, comprehend it, no. Soul, mind--the thought, the -idea--is easily understood, it understands itself and is conscious. - -The supernatural miscalled, the natural in truth, is the real. To me -everything is supernatural. How strange that condition of mind which -cannot accept anything but the earth, the sea, the tangible universe! -Without the misnamed supernatural these to me seem incomplete, -unfinished. Without soul all these are dead. Except when I walk by -the sea, and my soul is by it, the sea is dead. Those seas by which no -man has stood--which no soul has been--whether on earth or the planets, -are dead. No matter how majestic the planet rolls in space, unless a -soul be there it is dead. As I move about in the sunshine I feel in -the midst of the supernatural: in the midst of immortal things. It is -impossible to wrest the mind down to the same laws that rule pieces of -timber, water, or earth. They do not control the soul, however rigidly -they may bind matter. So full am I always of a sense of the -immortality now at this moment round about me, that it would not -surprise me in the least if a circumstance outside physical experience -occurred. It would seem to me quite natural. Give the soul the power -it conceives, and there would be nothing wonderful in it. - -I can see nothing astonishing in what are called miracles. Only those -who are mesmerised by matter can find a difficulty in such events. I -am aware that the evidence for miracles is logically and historically -untrustworthy; I am not defending recorded miracles. My point is that -in principle I see no reason at all why they should not take place this -day. I do not even say that there are or ever have been miracles, but -I maintain that they would be perfectly natural. The wonder rather is -that they do not happen frequently. Consider the limitless conceptions -of the soul: let it possess but the power to realise those conceptions -for one hour, and how little, how trifling would be the helping of the -injured or the sick to regain health and happiness--merely to think it. -A soul-work would require but a thought. Soul-work is an expression -better suited to my meaning than "miracle," a term like others into -which a special sense has been infused. - -When I consider that I dwell this moment in the eternal Now that has -ever been and will be, that I am in the midst of immortal things this -moment, that there probably are Souls as infinitely superior to mine as -mine to a piece of timber, what then, pray, is a "miracle"? As commonly -understood, a "miracle" is a mere nothing. I can conceive soul-works -done by simple will or thought a thousand times greater. I marvel that -they do not happen this moment. The air, the sunlight, the night, all -that surrounds me seems crowded with inexpressible powers, with the -influence of Souls, or existences, so that I walk in the midst of -immortal things. I myself am a living witness of it. Sometimes I have -concentrated myself, and driven away by continued will all sense of -outward appearances, looking straight with the full power of my mind -inwards on myself. I find "I" am there; an "I" I do not wholly -understand, or know--something is there distinct from earth and timber, -from flesh and bones. Recognising it, I feel on the margin of a life -unknown, very near, almost touching it: on the verge of powers which if -I could grasp would give me an immense breadth of existence, an ability -to execute what I now only conceive; most probably of far more than -that. To see that "I" is to know that I am surrounded with immortal -things. If, when I die, that "I" also dies, and becomes extinct, still -even then I have had the exaltation of these ideas. - -How many words it has taken to describe so briefly the feelings and the -thoughts that came to me by the tumulus; thoughts that swept past and -were gone, and were succeeded by others while yet the shadow of the -mound had not moved from one thyme flower to another, not the breadth -of a grass blade. Softly breathed the sweet south wind, gently the -yellow corn waved beneath; the ancient, ancient sun shone on the fresh -grass and the flower, my heart opened wide as the broad, broad earth. -I spread my arms out, laying them on the sward, seizing the grass, to -take the fulness of the days. Could I have my own way after death I -would be burned on a pyre of pine-wood, open to the air, and placed on -the summit of the hills. Then let my ashes be scattered abroad--not -collected urn an urn--freely sown wide and broadcast. That is the -natural interment of man--of man whose Thought at least has been among -the immortals; interment in the elements. Burial is not enough, it -does not give sufficient solution into the elements speedily; a furnace -is confined. The high open air of the topmost hill, there let the -tawny flame lick up the fragment called the body; there cast the ashes -into the space it longed for while living. Such a luxury of interment -is only for the wealthy; I fear I shall not be able to afford it. Else -the smoke of my resolution into the elements should certainly arise in -time on the hill-top. - -The silky grass sighs as the wind comes carrying the blue butterfly more -rapidly than his wings. A large humble-bee burrs round the green dome -against which I rest; my hands are scented with thyme. The sweetness -of the day, the fulness of the earth, the beauteous earth, how shall I -say it? - -Three things only have been discovered of that which concerns the inner -consciousness since before written history began. Three things only in -twelve thousand written, or sculptured, years, and in the dumb, dim -time before then. Three ideas the Cavemen primeval wrested from the -unknown, the night which is round us still in daylight--the existence -of the soul, immortality, the deity. These things found, prayer -followed as a sequential result. Since then nothing further has been -found in all the twelve thousand years, as if men had been satisfied -and had found these to suffice. They do not suffice me. I desire to -advance further, and to wrest a fourth, and even still more than a -fourth, from the darkness of thought. I want more ideas of soul-life. -I am certain that there are more yet to be found. A great life--an -entire civilisation--lies just outside the pale of common thought. -Cities and countries, inhabitants, intelligences, culture--an entire -civilisation. Except by illustrations drawn from familiar things, there -is no way of indicating a new idea. I do not mean actual cities, -actual civilisation. Such life is different from any yet imagined. A -nexus of ideas exists of which nothing is known--a vast system of -ideas--a cosmos of thought. There is an Entity, a Soul-Entity, as yet -unrecognised. These, rudely expressed, constitute my Fourth Idea. It -is beyond, or beside, the three discovered by the Cavemen; it is in -addition to the existence of the soul; in addition to immortality; and -beyond the idea of the deity. I think there is something more than -existence. - -There is an immense ocean over which the mind can sail, upon which the -vessel of thought has not yet been launched. I hope to launch it. The -mind of so many thousand years has worked round and round inside the -circle of these three ideas as a boat on an inland lake. Let us haul -it over the belt of land, launch on the ocean, and sail outwards. - -There is so much beyond all that has ever yet been imagined. As I -write these words, in the very moment, I feel that the whole air, the -sunshine out yonder lighting up the ploughed earth, the distant sky, -the circumambient ether, and that far space, is full of soul-secrets, -soul-life, things outside the experience of all the ages. The fact of -my own existence as I write, as I exist at this second, is so -marvellous, so miracle-like, strange, and supernatural to me, that I -unhesitatingly conclude I am always on the margin of life illimitable, -and that there are higher conditions than existence. Everything around -is supernatural; everything so full of unexplained meaning. - -Twelve thousand years since the Caveman stood at the mouth of his -cavern and gazed out at the night and the stars. He looked again and -saw the sun rise beyond the sea. He reposed in the noontide heat under -the shade of the trees, he closed his eyes and looked into himself. He -was face to face with the earth, the sun, the night; face to face with -himself. There was nothing between; no wall of written tradition; no -built up system of culture--his naked mind was confronted by naked -earth. He made three idea-discoveries, wresting them from the unknown; -the existence of his soul, immortality, the deity. Now, to-day, as I -write, I stand in exactly the same position as the Caveman. Written -tradition, systems of culture, modes of thought, have for me no -existence. If ever they took any hold of my mind it must have been -very slight; they have long ago been erased. - -From earth and sea and sun, from night, the stars, from day, the trees, -the hills, from my own soul--from these I think. I stand this moment -at the mouth of the ancient cave, face to face with nature, face to -face with the supernatural, with myself. My naked mind confronts the -unknown. I see as clearly as the noonday that this is not all; I see -other and higher conditions than existence; I see not only the -existence of the soul, immortality, but, in addition, I realise a -soul-life illimitable; I realise the existence of a cosmos of thought; -I realise the existence of an inexpressible entity infinitely higher -than deity. I strive to give utterance to a Fourth Idea. The very -idea that there is another idea is something gained. The three found -by the Cavemen are but stepping-stones: first links of an endless chain. -At the mouth of the ancient cave, face to face with the unknown, they -prayed. Prone in heart to-day I pray, Give me the deepest soul-life. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -THE wind sighs through the grass, sighs in the sunshine; it has drifted -the butterfly eastwards along the hill. A few yards away there lies -the skull of a lamb on the turf, white and bleached, picked clean long -since by crows and ants. Like the faint ripple of the summer sea -sounding in the hollow of the ear, so the sweet air ripples in the -grass. The ashes of the man interred in the tumulus are -indistinguishable; they have sunk away like rain into the earth; so his -body has disappeared. I am under no delusion; I am fully aware that no -demonstration can be given of the three stepping-stones of the Cavemen. -The soul is inscrutable; it is not in evidence to show that it exists; -immortality is not tangible. Full well I know that reason and -knowledge and experience tend to disprove all three; that experience -denies answer to prayer. I am under no delusion whatever; I grasp -death firmly in conception as I can grasp this bleached bone; utter -extinction, annihilation. That the soul is a product at best of -organic composition; that it goes out like a flame. This may be the -end; my soul may sink like rain into the earth and disappear. Wind and -earth, sea, and night and day, what then? Let my soul be but a product, -what then? I say it is nothing to me; this only I know, that while I -have lived--now, this moment, while I live--I think immortality, I lift -my mind to a Fourth Idea. If I pass into utter oblivion, yet I have -had that. - -The original three ideas of the Cavemen became encumbered with -superstition; ritual grew up, and ceremony, and long ranks of souls -were painted on papyri waiting to be weighed in the scales, and to be -punished or rewarded. These cobwebs grotesque have sullied the -original discoveries and cast them into discredit. Erase them -altogether, and consider only the underlying principles. The -principles do not go far enough, but I shall not discard all of them -for that. Even supposing the pure principles to be illusions, and -annihilation the end, even then it is better--it is something gained to -have thought them. Thought is life; to have thought them is to have -lived them. Accepting two of them as true in principle, then I say -that these are but the threshold. For twelve thousand years no effort -has been made to get beyond that threshold. These are but the primer -of soul-life; the merest hieroglyphics chipped out, a little shape -given to the unknown. - -Not to-morrow but to-day. Not the to-morrow of the tumulus, the hour -of the sunshine now. This moment give me to live soul-life, not only -after death. Now is eternity, now I am in the midst of immortality; -now the supernatural crowds around me. Open my mind, give my soul to -see, let me live it now on earth, while I hear the burring of the -larger bees, the sweet air in the grass, and watch the yellow wheat -wave beneath me. Sun and earth and sea, night and day--these are the -least of things. Give me soul-life. - -There is nothing human in nature. The earth, though loved so dearly, -would let me perish on the ground, and neither bring forth food nor -water. Burning in the sky the great sun, of whose company I have been -so fond, would merely burn on and make no motion to assist me. Those -who have been in an open boat at sea without water have proved the -mercies of the sun, and of the deity who did not give them one drop of -rain, dying in misery under the same rays that smile so beautifully on -the flowers. In the south the sun is the enemy; night and coolness and -rain are the friends of man. As for the sea, it offers us salt water -which we cannot drink. The trees care nothing for us; the hill I -visited so often in days gone by has not missed me. The sun scorches -man, and willing his naked state roast him alive. The sea and the -fresh water alike make no effort to uphold him if his vessel founders; -he casts up his arms in vain, they come to their level over his head, -filling the spot his body occupied. If he falls from a cliff the air -parts; the earth beneath dashes him to pieces. - -Water he can drink, but it is not produced for him; how many thousands -have perished for want of it? Some fruits are produced which he can -eat, but they do not produce themselves for him; merely for the purpose -of continuing their species. In wild, tropical countries, at the first -glance there appears to be some consideration for him, but it is on the -surface only. The lion pounces on him, the rhinoceros crushes him, the -serpent bites, insects torture, diseases rack him. Disease worked its -dreary will even among the flower-crowned Polynesians. Returning to -our own country, this very thyme which scents my fingers did not grow -for that purpose, but for its own. So does the wheat beneath; we -utilise it, but its original and native purpose was for itself. By -night it is the same as by day; the stars care not, they pursue their -courses revolving, and we are nothing to them. There is nothing human -in the whole round of nature. All nature, all the universe that we can -see, is absolutely indifferent to us, and except to us human life is of -no more value than grass. If the entire human race perished at this -hour, what difference would it make to the earth? What would the earth -care? As much as for the extinct dodo, or for the fate of the elephant -now going. - -On the contrary, a great part, perhaps the whole, of nature and of the -universe is distinctly anti-human. The term inhuman does not express -my meaning, anti-human is better; outre-human, in the sense of beyond, -outside, almost grotesque in its attitude towards, would nearly convey -it. Everything is anti-human. How extraordinary, strange, and -incomprehensible are the creatures captured out of the depths of the -sea! The distorted fishes; the ghastly cuttles; the hideous eel-like -shapes; the crawling shell-encrusted things; the centipede-like beings; -monstrous forms, to see which gives a shock to the brain. They shock -the mind because they exhibit an absence of design. There is no idea -in them. - -They have no shape, form, grace, or purpose; they call up a vague sense -of chaos, chaos which the mind revolts from. It would be a relief to -the thought if they ceased to be, and utterly disappeared from the sea. -They are not inimical of intent towards man, not even the shark; but -there the shark is, and that is enough. These miserably hideous things -of the sea are not anti-human in the sense of persecution, they are -outside, they are ultra and beyond. It is like looking into chaos, and -it is vivid because these creatures, interred alive a hundred fathoms -deep, are seldom seen; so that the mind sees them as if only that -moment they had come into existence. Use has not habituated it to -them, so that their anti-human character is at once apparent, and -stares at us with glassy eye. - -But it is the same in reality with the creatures on the earth. There -are some of these even now to which use has not accustomed the mind. -Such, for instance, as the toad. At its shapeless shape appearing in -an unexpected corner many people start and exclaim. They are aware -that they shall receive no injury from it, yet it affrights them, it -sends a shock to the mind. The reason lies in its obviously anti-human -character. All the designless, formless chaos of chance-directed -matter, without idea or human plan, squats there embodied in the -pathway. By watching the creature, and convincing the mind from -observation that it is harmless, and even has uses, the horror wears -away. But still remains the form to which the mind can never reconcile -itself. Carved in wood it is still repellent. - -Or suddenly there is a rustle like a faint hiss in the grass, and a -green snake glides over the bank. The breath in the chest seems to -lose its vitality; for an instant the nerves refuse to transmit the -force of life. The gliding yellow-streaked worm is so utterly opposed -to the ever present Idea in the mind. Custom may reduce the horror, -but no long pondering can ever bring that creature within the pale of -the human Idea. These are so distinctly opposite and anti-human that -thousands of years have not sufficed to soften their outline. Various -insects and creeping creatures excite the same sense in lesser degrees. -Animals and birds in general do not. The tiger is dreaded, but causes -no disgust. The exception is in those that feed on offal. Horses and -dogs we love; we not only do not recognise anything opposite in them, -we come to love them. - -They are useful to us, they show more or less sympathy with us, they -possess, especially the horse, a certain grace of movement. A gloss, -as it were, is thrown over them by these attributes and by familiarity. -The shape of the horse to the eye has become conventional: it is -accepted. Yet the horse is not in any sense human. Could we look at -it suddenly, without previous acquaintance, as at strange fishes in a -tank, the ultra-human character of the horse would be apparent. It is -the curves of the neck and body that carry the horse past without -adverse comment. Examine the hind legs in detail, and the curious -backward motion, the shape and anti-human curves become apparent. Dogs -take us by their intelligence, but they have no hand; pass the hand -over the dog's head, and the shape of the skull to the sense of feeling -is almost as repellent as the form of the toad to the sense of sight. -We have gradually gathered around us all the creatures that are less -markedly anti-human, horses and dogs and birds, but they are still -themselves. They originally existed like the wheat, for themselves; we -utilise them, but they are not of us. - -There is nothing human in any living animal. All nature, the universe -as far as we see, is anti- or ultra-human, outside, and has no concern -with man. These things are unnatural to him. By no course of -reasoning, however tortuous, can nature and the universe be fitted to -the mind. Nor can the mind be fitted to the cosmos. My mind cannot be -twisted to it; I am separate altogether from these designless things. -The soul cannot be wrested down to them. The laws of nature are of no -importance to it. I refuse to be bound by the laws of the tides, nor -am I so bound. Though bodily swung round on this rotating globe, my -mind always remains in the centre. No tidal law, no rotation, no -gravitation can control my thought. - -Centuries of thought have failed to reconcile and fit the mind to the -universe, which is designless, and purposeless, and without idea. I -will not endeavour to fit my thought to it any longer; I find and -believe myself to be distinct--separate; and I will labour in earnest -to obtain the highest culture for myself. As these natural things have -no connection with man, it follows again that the natural is the -strange and mysterious, and the supernatural the natural. - -There being nothing human in nature or the universe, and all things -being ultra-human and without design, shape, or purpose, I conclude -that, no deity has anything to do with nature. There is no god in -nature, nor in any matter anywhere, either in the clods on the earth or -in the composition of the stars. For what we understand by the deity -is the purest form of Idea, of Mind, and no mind is exhibited in these. -That which controls them is distinct altogether from deity. It is not -force in the sense of electricity, nor a deity as god, nor a spirit, -not even an intelligence, but a power quite different to anything yet -imagined. I cease, therefore, to look for deity in nature or the -cosmos at large, or to trace any marks of divine handiwork. I search -for traces of this force which is not god, and is certainly not the -higher than deity of whom I have written. It is a force without a -mind. I wish to indicate something more subtle than electricity, but -absolutely devoid of consciousness, and with no more feeling than the -force which lifts the tides. - -Next, in human affairs, in the relations of man with man, in the -conduct of life, in the events that occur, in human affairs generally -everything happens by chance. No prudence in conduct, no wisdom or -foresight can effect anything, for the most trivial circumstance will -upset the deepest plan of the wisest mind. As Xenophon observed in old -times, wisdom is like casting dice and determining your course by the -number that appears. Virtue, humanity, the best and most beautiful -conduct is wholly in vain. The history of thousands of years -demonstrates it. In all these years there is no more moving instance -on record than that of Danae, when she was dragged to the precipice, -two thousand years ago. Sophron was governor of Ephesus, and Laodice -plotted to assassinate him. Danae discovered the plot, and warned -Sophron, who fled, and saved his life. Laodice--the murderess in -intent--had Danae seized and cast from a cliff. On the verge Danae -said that some persons despised the deity, and they might now prove the -justice of their contempt by her fate. For having saved the man who -was to her as a husband, she was rewarded in this way with cruel death -by the deity, but Laodice was advanced to honour. The bitterness of -these words remains to this hour. - -In truth the deity, if responsible for such a thing, or for similar -things which occur now, should be despised. One must always despise -the fatuous belief in such a deity. But as everything in human affairs -obviously happens by chance, it is clear that no deity is responsible. -If the deity guides chance in that manner, then let the deity be -despised. Apparently the deity does not interfere, and all things -happen by chance. I cease, therefore, to look for traces of the deity -in life, because no such traces exist. - -I conclude that there is an existence, a something higher than -soul--higher, better, and more perfect than deity. Earnestly I pray to -find this something better than a god. There is something superior, -higher, more good. For this I search, labour, think, and pray. If -after all there be nothing, and my soul has to go out like a flame, yet -even then I have thought this while it lives. With the whole force of -my existence, with the whole force of my thought, mind, and soul, I -pray to find this Highest Soul, this greater than deity, this better -than god. Give me to live the deepest soul-life now and always with -this Soul. For want of words I write soul, but I think that it is -something beyond soul. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -IT is not possible to narrate these incidents of the mind in strict -order. I must now return to a period earlier than anything already -narrated, and pass in review other phases of my search from then up -till recently. So long since that I have forgotten the date, I used -every morning to visit a spot where I could get a clear view of the -east. Immediately on rising I went out to some elms; thence I could -see across the dewy fields to the distant hill over or near which the -sun rose. These elms partially hid me, for at that time I had a -dislike to being seen, feeling that I should be despised if I was -noticed. This happened once or twice, and I knew I was watched -contemptuously, though no one had the least idea of my object. But I -went every morning, and was satisfied if I could get two or three -minutes to think unchecked. Often I saw the sun rise over the line of -the hills, but if it was summer the sun had been up a long time. - -I looked at the hills, at the dewy grass, and then up through the elm -branches to the sky. In a moment all that was behind me, the house, -the people, the sounds, seemed to disappear, and to leave me alone. -Involuntarily I drew a long breath, then I breathed slowly. My -thought, or inner consciousness, went up through the illumined sky, and -I was lost in a moment of exaltation. This only lasted a very short -time, perhaps only part of a second, and while it lasted there was no -formulated wish. I was absorbed; I drank the beauty of the morning; I -was exalted. When it ceased I did wish for some increase or -enlargement of my existence to correspond with the largeness of feeling -I had momentarily enjoyed. Sometimes the wind came through the tops of -the elms, and the slender boughs bent, and gazing up through them, and -beyond the fleecy clouds, I felt lifted up. The light coming across -the grass and leaving itself on the dew-drops, the sound of the wind, -and the sense of mounting to the lofty heaven, filled me with a deep -sigh, a wish to draw something out of the beauty of it, some part of -that which caused my admiration, the subtle inner essence. - -Sometimes the green tips of the highest boughs seemed gilded, the light -laid a gold on the green. Or the trees bowed to a stormy wind roaring -through them, the grass threw itself down, and in the east broad -curtains of a rosy tint stretched along. The light was turned to -redness in the vapour, and rain hid the summit of the hill. In the -rush and roar of the stormy wind the same exaltation, the same desire, -lifted me for a moment. I went there every morning, I could not -exactly define why; it was like going to a rose bush to taste the scent -of the flower and feel the dew from its petals on the lips. But I -desired the beauty--the inner subtle meaning--to be in me, that I might -have it, and with it an existence of a higher kind. - -Later on I began to have daily pilgrimages to think these things. -There was a feeling that I must go somewhere, and be alone. It was a -necessity to have a few minutes of this separate life every day; my -mind required to live its own life apart from other things. A great -oak at a short distance was one resort, and sitting on the grass at the -roots, or leaning against the trunk and looking over the quiet meadows -towards the bright southern sky, I could live my own life a little -while. Behind the trunk I was alone; I liked to lean against it; to -touch the lichen on the rough bark. High in the wood of branches the -birds were not alarmed; they sang, or called, and passed to and fro -happily. The wind moved the leaves, and they replied to it softly; and -now at this distance of time I can see the fragments of sky up through -the boughs. Bees were always humming in the green field; ring-doves -went over swiftly, flying for the woods. - -Of the sun I was conscious; I could not look at it, but the boughs held -back the beams so that I could feel the sun's presence pleasantly. -They shaded the sun, yet let me know that it was there. There came to -me a delicate, but at the same time a deep, strong, and sensuous -enjoyment of the beautiful green earth, the beautiful sky and sun; I -felt them, they gave me inexpressible delight, as if they embraced and -poured out their love upon me. It was I who loved them, for my heart -was broader than the earth; it is broader now than even then, more -thirsty and desirous. After the sensuous enjoyment always came the -thought, the desire: That I might be like this; that I might have the -inner meaning of the sun, the light, the earth, the trees and grass, -translated into some growth of excellence in myself, both of body and -of mind; greater perfection of physique, greater perfection of mind and -soul; that I might be higher in myself. To this oak I came daily for a -long time; sometimes only for a minute, for just to view the spot was -enough. In the bitter cold of spring, when the north wind blackened -everything, I used to come now and then at night to look from under the -bare branches at the splendour of the southern sky. The stars burned -with brilliance, broad Orion and flashing Sirius--there are more or -brighter constellations visible then than all the year: and the -clearness of the air and the blackness of the sky--black, not -clouded--let them gleam in their fulness. They lifted me--they gave me -fresh vigour of soul. Not all that the stars could have given, had -they been destinies, could have satiated me. This, all this, and more, -I wanted in myself. - -There was a place a mile or so along the road where the hills could be -seen much better; I went there frequently to think the same thought. -Another spot was by an elm, a very short walk, where openings in the -trees, and the slope of the ground, brought the hills well into view. -This too, was a favourite thinking-place. Another was a wood, half an -hour's walk distant, through part of which a rude track went, so that -it was not altogether inclosed. The ash-saplings, and the trees, the -firs, the hazel bushes--to be among these enabled me to be myself. -From the buds of spring to the berries of autumn, I always liked to be -there. Sometimes in spring there was a sheen of blue-bells covering -acres; the doves cooed; the blackbirds whistled sweetly; there was a -taste of green things in the air. But it was the tall firs that -pleased me most; the glance rose up the flame-shaped fir-tree, tapering -to its green tip, and above was the azure sky. By aid of the tree I -felt the sky more. By aid of everything beautiful I felt myself, and -in that intense sense of consciousness prayed for greater perfection of -soul and body. - -Afterwards, I walked almost daily more than two miles along the road to -a spot where the hills began, where from the first rise the road could -be seen winding southwards over the hills, open and uninclosed. I -paused a minute or two by a clump of firs, in whose branches the wind -always sighed--there is always a movement of the air on a hill. -Southwards the sky was illumined by the sun, southwards the clouds -moved across the opening or pass in the amphitheatre, and southwards, -though far distant, was the sea. There I could think a moment. These -pilgrimages gave me a few sacred minutes daily; the moment seemed holy -when the thought or desire came in its full force. - -A time came when, having to live in a town, these pilgrimages had to be -suspended. The wearisome work on which I was engaged would not permit -of them. But I used to look now and then, from a window, in the -evening at a birch-tree at some distance; its graceful boughs drooped -across the glow of the sunset. The thought was not suspended; it lived -in me always. A bitterer time still came when it was necessary to be -separated from those I loved. There is little indeed in the more -immediate suburbs of London to gratify the sense of the beautiful. Yet -there was a cedar by which I used to walk up and down, and think the -same thoughts as under the great oak in the solitude of the sunlit -meadows. In the course of slow time happier circumstances brought us -together again, and, though near London, at a spot where there was easy -access to meadows and woods. Hills that purify those who walk on them -there were not. Still I thought my old thoughts. - -I was much in London, and, engagements completed, I wandered about in -the same way as in the woods of former days. From the stone bridges I -looked down on the river; the gritty dust, the straws that lie on the -bridges, flew up and whirled round with every gust from the flowing -tide; gritty dust that settles in the nostrils and on the lips, the -very residuum of all that is repulsive in the greatest city of the -world. The noise of the traffic and the constant pressure from the -crowds passing, their incessant and disjointed talk, could not distract -me. One moment at least I had, a moment when I thought of the push of -the great sea forcing the water to flow under the feet of these crowds, -the distant sea strong and splendid; when I saw the sunlight gleam on -the tidal wavelets; when I felt the wind, and was conscious of the -earth, the sea, the sun, the air, the immense forces working on, while -the city hummed by the river. Nature was deepened by the crowds and -foot-worn stones. If the tide had ebbed, and the masts of the vessels -were tilted as the hulls rested on the shelving mud, still even the -blackened mud did not prevent me seeing the water as water flowing to -the sea. The sea had drawn down, and the wavelets washing the strand -here as they hastened were running the faster to it. Eastwards from -London Bridge the river raced to the ocean. - -The bright morning sun of summer heated the eastern parapet of London -Bridge; I stayed in the recess to acknowledge it. The smooth water was -a broad sheen of light, the built-up river flowed calm and silent by a -thousand doors, rippling only where the stream chafed against a chain. -Red pennants drooped, gilded vanes gleamed on polished masts, -black-pitched hulls glistened like a black rook's feathers in sunlight; -the clear air cut out the forward angles of the warehouses, the -shadowed wharves were quiet in shadows that carried light; far down the -ships that were hauling out moved in repose, and with the stream -floated away into the summer mist. There was a faint blue colour in -the air hovering between the built-up banks, against the lit walls, in -the hollows of the houses. The swallows wheeled and climbed, twittered -and glided downwards. Burning on, the great sun stood in the sky, -heating the parapet, glowing steadfastly upon me as when I rested in -the narrow valley grooved out in prehistoric times. Burning on -steadfast, and ever present as my thought. Lighting the broad river, -the broad walls; lighting the least speck of dust; lighting the great -heaven; gleaming on my finger-nail. The fixed point of day--the sun. -I was intensely conscious of it; I felt it; I felt the presence of the -immense powers of the universe; I felt out into the depths of the -ether. So intensely conscious of the sun, the sky, the limitless -space, I felt too in the midst of eternity then, in the midst of the -supernatural, among the immortal, and the greatness of the material -realised the spirit. By these I saw my soul; by these I knew the -supernatural to be more intensely real than the sun. I touched the -supernatural, the immortal, there that moment. - -When, weary of walking on the pavements, I went to rest in the National -Gallery, I sat and rested before one or other of the human pictures. I -am not a picture lover: they are flat surfaces, but those that I call -human are nevertheless beautiful. The knee in Daphnis and Chloe and -the breast are like living things; they draw the heart towards them, -the heart must love them. I lived in looking; without beauty there is -no life for me, the divine beauty of flesh is life itself to me. The -shoulder in the Surprise, the rounded rise of the bust, the exquisite -tints of the ripe skin, momentarily gratified the sea-thirst in me. For -I thirst with all the thirst of the salt sea, and the sun-heated sands -dry for the tide, with all the sea I thirst for beauty. And I know -full well that one lifetime, however long, cannot fill my heart. My -throat and tongue and whole body have often been parched and feverish -dry with this measureless thirst, and again moist to the fingers' ends -like a sappy bough. It burns in me as the sun burns in the sky. - -The glowing face of Cytherea in Titian's Venus and Adonis, the heated -cheek, the lips that kiss each eye that gazes on them, the desiring -glance, the golden hair--sunbeams moulded into features--this face -answered me. Juno's wide back and mesial groove, is any thing so -lovely as the back? Cythereals poised hips unveiled for judgment; these -called up the same thirst I felt on the green sward in the sun, on the -wild beach listening to the quiet sob as the summer wave drank at the -land. I will search the world through for beauty. I came here and sat -to rest before these in the days when I could not afford to buy so much -as a glass of ale, weary and faint from walking on stone pavements. I -came later on, in better times, often straight from labours which -though necessary will ever be distasteful, always to rest my heart with -loveliness. I go still; the divine beauty of flesh is life itself to -me. It was, and is, one of my London pilgrimages. - -Another was to the Greek sculpture galleries in the British Museum. -The statues are not, it is said, the best; broken too, and mutilated, -and seen in a dull, commonplace light. But they were shape--divine -shape of man and woman; the form of limb and torso, of bust and neck, -gave me a sighing sense of rest. These were they who would have stayed -with me under the shadow of the oaks while the blackbirds fluted and -the south air swung the cowslips. They would have walked with me among -the reddened gold of the wheat. They would have rested with me on the -hill-tops and in the narrow valley grooved of ancient times. They -would have listened with me to the sob of the summer sea drinking -the land. These had thirsted of sun, and earth, and sea, and sky. Their -shape spoke this thirst and desire like mine--if I had lived with them -from Greece till now I should not have had enough of them. Tracing the -form of limb and torso with the eye gave me a sense of rest. - -Sometimes I came in from the crowded streets and ceaseless hum; one -glance at these shapes and I became myself. Sometimes I came from the -Reading-room, where under the dome I often looked up from the desk and -realised the crushing hopelessness of books, useless, not equal to one -bubble borne along on the running brook I had walked by, giving no -thought like the spring when I lifted the water in my hand and saw the -light gleam on it. Torso and limb, bust and neck instantly returned me -to myself; I felt as I did lying on the turf listening to the wind -among the grass; it would have seemed natural to have found butterflies -fluttering among he statues. The same deep desire was with me. I -shall always go to speak to them; they are a place of pilgrimage; -wherever there is a beautiful statue there is a place of pilgrimage. - -I always stepped aside, too, to look awhile at the head of Julius -Caesar. The domes of the swelling temples of his broad head are full -of mind, evident to the eye as a globe is full of substance to the -sense of feeling in the hands that hold it. The thin worn cheek is -entirely human; endless difficulties surmounted by endless labour are -marked in it, as the sandblast, by dint of particles ceaselessly -driven, carves the hardest material. If circumstances favoured him he -made those circumstances his own by marvellous labour, so as justly to -receive the credit of chance. Therefore the thin cheek is entirely -human--the sum of human life made visible in one face--labour, and -endurance, and mind, and all in vain. A shadow--of deep sadness has -gathered on it in the years that have passed, because endurance was -without avail. It is sadder to look at than the grass-grown tumulus I -used to sit by, because it is a personality, and also on account of the -extreme folly of our human race ever destroying our greatest. - -Far better had they endeavoured, however hopelessly, to keep him living -till this day. Did but the race this hour possess one-hundredth part -of his breadth of view, how happy for them! Of whom else can it be said -that he had no enemies to forgive because he recognised no enemy? -Nineteen hundred years ago he put in actual practice, with more -arbitrary power than any despot, those very principles of humanity -which are now put forward as the highest culture. But he made them to -be actual things under his sway. - -The one man filled with mind; the one man without avarice, anger, -pettiness, littleness; the one man generous and truly great of all -history. It is enough to make one despair to think of the mere brutes -butting to death the great-minded Caesar. He comes nearest to the -ideal of a design-power arranging the affairs of the world for good in -practical things. Before his face--the divine brow of mind above, the -human suffering-drawn cheek beneath--my own thought became set and -strengthened. That I could but look at things in the broad way he did; -that I could not possess one particle of such width of intellect to -guide my own course, to cope with and drag forth from the -iron-resisting forces of the universe some one thing of my prayer for -the soul and for the flesh. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -THERE is a place in front of the Royal Exchange where the wide pavement -reaches out like a promontory. It is in the shape of a triangle with a -rounded apex. A stream of traffic runs on either side, and other -streets send their currents down into the open space before it. Like -the spokes of a wheel converging streams of human life flow into this -agitated pool. Horses and carriages, carts, vans, omnibuses, cabs, -every kind of conveyance cross each other's course in every possible -direction. Twisting in and out by the wheels and under the horses' -heads, working a devious way, men and women of all conditions wind a -path over. They fill the interstices between the carriages and blacken -the surface, till the vans almost float on human beings. Now the -streams slacken, and now they rush amain, but never cease; dark waves -are always rolling down the incline opposite, waves swell out from the -side rivers, all London converges into this focus. There is an -indistinguishable noise--it is not clatter, hum, or roar, it is not -resolvable; made up of a thousand thousand footsteps, from a thousand -hoofs, a thousand wheels--of haste, and shuffle, and quick movements, -and ponderous loads; no attention can resolve it into a fixed sound. - -Blue carts and yellow omnibuses, varnished carriages and brown vans, -green omnibuses and red cabs, pale loads of yellow straw, rusty-red -iron clanking on paintless carts, high white wool-packs, grey horses, -bay horses, black teams; sunlight sparkling on brass harness, gleaming -from carriage panels; jingle, jingle, jingle! An intermixed and -intertangled, ceaselessly changing jingle, too, of colour; flecks of -colour champed, as it were, like bits in the horses' teeth, frothed and -strewn about, and a surface always of dark-dressed people winding like -the curves on fast-flowing water. This is the vortex and whirlpool, -the centre of human life today on the earth. Now the tide rises and -now it sinks, but the flow of these rivers always continues. Here it -seethes and whirls, not for an hour only, but for all present time, -hour by hour, day by day, year by year. - -Here it rushes and pushes, the atoms triturate and grind, and, eagerly -thrusting by, pursue their separate ends. Here it appears in its -unconcealed personality, indifferent to all else but itself, absorbed -and rapt in eager self, devoid and stripped of conventional gloss and -politeness, yielding only to get its own way; driving, pushing, carried -on in a stress of feverish force like a bullet, dynamic force apart -from reason or will, like the force that lifts the tides and sends the -clouds onwards. The friction of a thousand interests evolves a -condition of electricity in which men are moved to and fro without -considering their steps. Yet the agitated pool of life is stonily -indifferent, the thought is absent or preoccupied, for it is evident -that the mass are unconscious of the scene in which they act. - -But it is more sternly real than the very stones, for all these men and -women that pass through are driven on by the push of accumulated -circumstances; they cannot stay, they must go, their necks are in the -slave's ring, they are beaten like seaweed against the solid walls of -fact. In ancient times, Xerxes, the king of kings, looking down upon -his myriads, wept to think that in a hundred years not one of them -would be left. Where will be these millions of to-day in a hundred -years? But, further than that, let us ask, Where then will be the sum -and outcome of their labour? If they wither away like summer grass, -will not at least a result be left which those of a hundred years hence -may be the better for? No, not one jot! There will not be any sum or -outcome or result of this ceaseless labour and movement; it vanishes in -the moment that it is done, and in a hundred years nothing will be -there, for nothing is there now. There will be no more sum or result -than accumulates from the motion of a revolving cowl on a housetop. -Nor do they receive any more sunshine during their lives, for they are -unconscious of the sun. - -I used to come and stand near the apex of the promontory of pavement -which juts out towards the pool of life; I still go there to ponder. -Burning in the sky, the sun shone on me as when I rested in the narrow -valley carved in prehistoric time. Burning in the sky, I can never -forget the sun. The heat of summer is dry there as if the light -carried an impalpable dust; dry, breathless heat that will not let the -skin respire, but swathes up the dry fire in the blood. But beyond the -heat and light, I felt the presence of the sun as I felt it in the -solitary valley, the presence of the resistless forces of the universe; -the sun burned in the sky as I stood and pondered. Is there any -theory, philosophy, or creed, is there any system or culture, any -formulated method able to meet and satisfy each separate item of this -agitated pool of human life? By which they may be guided, by which -hope, by which look forward? Not a mere illusion of the craven -heart--something real, as real as the solid walls of fact against -which, like drifted sea-weed, they are dashed; something to give each -separate personality sunshine and a flower in its own existence now; -something to shape this million-handed labour to an end and outcome -that will leave more sunshine and more flowers to those who must -succeed? Something real now, and not in the spirit-land; in this hour -now, as I stand and the sun burns. Can any creed, philosophy, system, -or culture endure the test and remain unmolten in this fierce focus -of human life? - -Consider, is there anything slowly painted on the once mystic and now -commonplace papyri of ancient, ancient Egypt, held on the mummy's -withered breast? In that elaborate ritual, in the procession of the -symbols, in the winged circle, in the laborious sarcophagus? Nothing; -absolutely nothing! Before the fierce heat of the human furnace, the -papyri smoulder away as paper smoulders under a lens in the sun. -Remember Nineveh and the cult of the fir-cone, the turbaned and bearded -bulls of stone, the lion hunt, the painted chambers loaded with tile -books, the lore of the arrow-headed writing. What is in Assyria? There -are sand, and failing rivers, and in Assyria's writings an utter -nothing. The aged caves of India, who shall tell when they were -sculptured? Far back when the sun was burning, burning in the sky as -now in untold precedent time. Is there any meaning in those ancient -caves? The indistinguishable noise not to be resolved, born of the -human struggle, mocks in answer. - -In the strange characters of the Zend, in the Sanscrit, in the -effortless creed of Confucius, in the Aztec coloured-string writings -and rayed stones, in the uncertain marks left of the sunken Polynesian -continent, hieroglyphs as useless as those of Memphis, nothing. -Nothing! They have been tried, and were found an illusion. Think then, -to-day, now looking from this apex of the pavement promontory outwards -from our own land to the utmost bounds of the farthest sail, is there -any faith or culture at this hour which can stand in this fierce heat? -From the various forms of Semitic, Aryan, or Turanian creed now -existing, from the printing-press to the palm-leaf volume on to those -who call on the jewel in the lotus, can aught be gathered which can -face this, the Reality? The indistinguishable noise, non-resolvable, -roars a loud contempt. - -Turn, then, to the calm reasoning of Aristotle; is there anything in -that? Can the half-divine thought of Plato, rising in storeys of -sequential ideas, following each other to the conclusion, endure here? -No! All the philosophers in Diogenes Laertius fade away: the theories -of mediaeval days; the organon of experiment; down to this hour--they -are useless alike. The science of this hour, drawn from the -printing-press in an endless web of paper, is powerless here; the -indistinguishable noise echoed from the smoke-shadowed walls despises -the whole. A thousand footsteps, a thousand hoofs, a thousand wheels -roll over and utterly contemn them in complete annihilation. Mere -illusions of heart or mind, they are tested and thrust aside by the -irresistible push of a million converging feet. - -Burning in the sky, the sun shines as it shone on me in the solitary -valley, as it burned on when the earliest cave of India was carved. -Above the indistinguishable roar of the many feet I feel the presence -of the sun, of the immense forces of the universe, and beyond these the -sense of the eternal now, of the immortal. Full well aware that all -has failed, yet, side by side with the sadness of that knowledge, there -lives on in me an unquenchable belief, thought burning like the sun, -that there is yet something to be found, something real, something to -give each separate personality sunshine and flowers in its own -existence now. Something to shape this million-handed labour to an end -and outcome, leaving accumulated sunshine and flowers to those who -shall succeed. It must be dragged forth by might of thought from the -immense forces of the universe. - -To prepare for such an effort, first the mind must be cleared of the -conceit that, because we live to-day, we are wiser than the ages gone. -The mind must acknowledge its ignorance; all the learning and lore of -so many eras must be erased from it as an encumbrance. It is not from -past or present knowledge, science or faith, that it is to be drawn. -Erase these altogether as they are erased under the fierce heat of the -focus before me. Begin wholly afresh. Go straight to the sun, the -immense forces of the universe, to the Entity unknown; go higher than a -god; deeper than prayer; and open a new day. That I might but have a -fragment of Caesar's intellect to find a fragment of this desire! - -From my home near London I made a pilgrimage almost daily to an aspen -by a brook. It was a mile and a quarter along the road, far enough for -me to walk off the concentration of mind necessary for work. The idea -of the pilgrimage was to get away from the endless and nameless -circumstances of everyday existence, which by degrees build a wall -about the mind so that it travels in a constantly narrowing circle. -This tether of the faculties tends to make them accept present -knowledge, and present things, as all that can be attained to. This is -all--there is nothing more--is the iterated preaching of house-life. -Remain; be content; go round and round in one barren path, a little -money, a little food and sleep, some ancient fables, old age and death. -Of all the inventions of casuistry with man for ages has in various -ways which manacled himself, and stayed his own advance, there is none -equally potent with the supposition that nothing more is possible. -Once well impress on the mind that it has already all, that advance is -impossible because there is nothing further, and it is chained like a -horse to an iron pin in the ground. It is the most deadly--the most -fatal poison of the mind. No such casuistry has ever for a moment held -me, but still, if permitted, the constant routine of house-life, the -same work, the same thought in the work, the little circumstances -regularly recurring, will dull the keenest edge of thought. By my -daily pilgrimage, I escaped from it back to the sun. - -In summer the leaves of the aspen rustled pleasantly, there was the -tinkle of falling water over a hatch, thrushes sang and blackbirds -whistled, greenfinches laughed in their talk to each other. The -commonplace dusty road was commonplace no longer. In the dust was the -mark of the chaffinches' little feet; the white light rendered even the -dust brighter to look on. The air came from the south-west--there were -distant hills in that direction--over fields of grass and corn. As I -visited the spot from day to day the wheat grew from green to yellow, -the wild roses flowered, the scarlet poppies appeared, and again the -beeches reddened in autumn. In the march of time there fell away from -my mind, as the leaves from the trees in autumn, the last traces and -relics of superstitions and traditions acquired compulsorily in -childhood. Always feebly adhering, they finally disappeared. - -There fell away, too, personal bias and prejudices, enabling me to see -clearer and with wider sympathies. The glamour of modern science and -discoveries faded away, for I found them no more than the first -potter's wheel. Erasure and reception proceeded together; the past -accumulations of casuistry were erased, and my thought widened to -receive the idea of something beyond all previous ideas. With -disbelief, belief increased. The aspiration and hope, the prayer, was -the same as that which I felt years before on the hills, only it now -broadened. - -Experience of life, instead of curtailing and checking my prayer, led -me to reject experience altogether. As well might the horse believe -that the road the bridle forces it to traverse every day encircles the -earth as I believe in experience. All the experience of the greatest -city in the world could not withhold me. I rejected it wholly. I -stood bare-headed before the sun, in the presence of the earth and air, -in the presence of the immense forces of the universe. I demand that -which will make me more perfect now, this hour. London convinced me of -my own thought. That thought has always been with me, and always grows -wider. - -One midsummer I went out of the road into the fields, and sat down on -the grass between the yellowing wheat and the green hawthorn bushes. -The sun burned in the sky, the wheat was full of a luxuriant sense of -growth, the grass high, the earth giving its vigour to tree and leaf, -the heaven blue. The vigour and growth, the warmth and light, the -beauty and richness of it entered into me; an ecstasy of soul -accompanied the delicate excitement of the senses: the soul rose with -the body. Rapt in the fulness of the moment, I prayed there with all -that expansion of mind and frame; no words, no definition, -inexpressible desire of physical life, of soul-life, equal to and -beyond the highest imagining of my heart. - -These memories cannot be placed in exact chronological order. There -was a time when a weary restlessness came upon me, perhaps from -too-long-continued labour. It was like a drought--a moral drought--as -if I had been absent for many years from the sources of life and hope. -The inner nature was faint, all was dry and tasteless; I was weary for -the pure, fresh springs of thought. Some instinctive feeling -uncontrollable drove me to the sea; I was so under its influence that I -could not arrange the journey so as to get the longest day. I merely -started, and of course had to wait and endure much inconvenience. To -get to the sea at some quiet spot was my one thought; to do so I had to -travel farther, and from want of prearrangement it was between two and -three in the afternoon before I reached the end of my journey. Even -then, being too much preoccupied to inquire the way, I missed the road -and had to walk a long distance before coming to the shore. But I -found the sea at last; I walked beside it in a trance away from the -houses out into the wheat. The ripe corn stood up to the beach, the -waves on one side of the shingle, and the yellow wheat on the other. - -There, alone, I went down to the sea. I stood where the foam came to -my feet, and looked out over the sunlit waters. The great earth -bearing the richness of the harvest, and its hills golden with corn, -was at my back; its strength and firmness under me. The great sun -shone above, the wide sea was before me, the wind came sweet and strong -from the waves. The life of the earth and the sea, the glow of the sun -filled me; I touched the surge with my hand, I lifted my face to the -sun, I opened my lips to the wind. I prayed aloud in the roar of the -waves--my soul was strong as the sea and prayed with the sea's might. -Give me fulness of life like to the sea and the sun, to the earth and -the air; give me fulness of physical life, mind equal and beyond their -fulness; give me a greatness and perfection of soul higher than all -things; give me my inexpressible desire which swells in me like a -tide--give it to me with all the force of the sea. - -Then I rested, sitting by the wheat; the bank of beach was between me -and the sea, but the waves beat against it; the sea was there, the sea -was present and at hand. By the dry wheat I rested, I did not think, I -was inhaling the richness of the sea, all the strength and depth of -meaning of the sea and earth came to me again. I rubbed out some of -the wheat in my hands, I took up a piece of clod and crumbled it in my -fingers--it was a joy to touch it--I held my hand so that I could see -the sunlight gleam on the slightly moist surface of the skin. The -earth and sun were to me like my flesh and blood, and the air of the sea -life. - -With all the greater existence I drew from them I prayed for a bodily -life equal to it, for a soul-life beyond my thought, for my -inexpressible desire of more than I could shape even into idea. There -was something higher than idea, invisible to thought as air to the eye; -give me bodily life equal in fulness to the strength of earth, and sun, -and sea; give me the soul-life of my desire. Once more I went down to -the sea, touched it, and said farewell. So deep was the inhalation of -this life that day, that it seemed to remain in me for years. This was -a real pilgrimage. - -Time passed away, with more labour, pleasure, and again at last, after -much pain and wearinesss of mind, I came down again to the sea. The -circumstances were changed--it was not a hurried glance--there were -opportunities for longer thought. It mattered scarcely anything to me -now whether I was alone, or whether houses and other people were near. -Nothing could disturb my inner vision. By the sea, aware of the sun -overhead, and the blue heaven, I feel that there is nothing between me -and space. This is the verge of a gulf, and a tangent from my feet -goes straight unchecked into the unknown. It is the edge of the abyss -as much as if the earth were cut away in a sheer fall of eight thousand -miles to the sky beneath, thence a hollow to the stars. Looking -straight out is looking straight down; the eye-glance gradually departs -from the sea-level, and, rising as that falls, enters the hollow of -heaven. It is gazing along the face of a vast precipice into the -hollow space which is nameless. - -There mystery has been placed, but realising the vast hollow yonder -makes me feel that the mystery is here. I, who am here on the verge, -standing on the margin of the sky, am in the mystery itself. If I let -my eye look back upon me from the extreme opposite of heaven, then this -spot where I stand is in the centre of the hollow. Alone with the sea -and sky, I presently feel all the depth and wonder of the unknown come -back surging up around, and touching me as the foam runs to my feet. I -am in it now, not to-morrow, this moment; I cannot escape from it. -Though I may deceive myself with labour, yet still I am in it; in sleep -too. There is no escape from this immensity. - -Feeling this by the sea, under the sun, my life enlarges and quickens, -striving to take to itself the largeness of the heaven. The frame -cannot expand, but the soul is able to stand before it. No giant's -body could be in proportion to the earth, but a little spirit is equal -to the entire cosmos, to earth and ocean, sun and star-hollow. These -are but a few acres to it. Were the cosmos twice as wide, the soul -could run over it, and return to itself in a time so small, no measure -exists to mete it. Therefore, I think the soul may sometimes find out -an existence as superior as my mind is to the dead chalk cliff. - -With the great sun burning over the foam-flaked sea, roofed with -heaven--aware of myself, a consciousness forced on me by these -things--I feel that thought must yet grow larger and correspond in -magnitude of conception to these. But these cannot content me, these -Titanic things of sea, and sun, and profundity; I feel that my thought -is stronger than they are. I burn life like a torch. The hot light -shot back from the sea scorches my cheek--my life is burning in me. -The soul throbs like the sea for a larger life. No thought which I -have ever had has satisfied my soul. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -MY strength is not enough to fulfil my desire; if I had the strength of -the ocean, and of the earth, the burning vigour of the sun implanted in -my limbs, it would hardly suffice to gratify the measureless desire of -life which possesses me. I have often walked the day long over the -sward, and, compelled to pause, at length, in my weariness, I was full -of the same eagerness with which I started. The sinews would obey no -longer, but the will was the same. My frame could never take the -violent exertion my heart demanded. Labour of body was like meat and -drink to me. Over the open hills, up the steep ascents, mile after -mile, there was deep enjoyment in the long-drawn breath, the spring of -the foot, in the act of rapid movement. Never have I had enough of it; -I wearied long before I was satisfied, and weariness did not bring a -cessation of desire; the thirst was still there. - -I rowed, I used the axe, I split tree-trunks with wedges; my arms -tired, but my spirit remained fresh and chafed against the physical -weariness. My arms were not strong enough to satisfy me with the axe, -or wedges, or oars. There was delight in the moment, but it was not -enough. I swam, and what is more delicious than swimming? It is -exercise and luxury at once. But I could not swim far enough; I was -always dissatisfied with myself on leaving the water. Nature has not -given me a great frame, and had it done so I should still have longed -for more. I was out of doors all day, and often half the night; still -I wanted more sunshine, more air, the hours were too short. I feel -this even more now than in the violence of early youth: the hours are -too short, the day should be sixty hours long. Slumber, too, is -abbreviated and restricted; forty hours of night and sleep would not be -too much. So little can be accomplished in the longest summer day, so -little rest and new force is accumulated in a short eight hours of -sleep. - -I live by the sea now; I can see nothing of it in a day; why, I do but -get a breath of it, and the sun sinks before I have well begun to -think. Life is so little and so mean. I dream sometimes backwards of -the ancient times. If I could have the bow of Ninus, and the earth -full of wild bulls and lions, to hunt them down, there would be rest in -that. To shoot with a gun is nothing; a mere touch discharges it. -Give me a bow, that I may enjoy the delight of feeling myself draw the -string and the strong wood bending, that I may see the rush of the -arrow, and the broad head bury itself deep in shaggy hide. Give me an -iron mace that I may crush the savage beast and hammer him down. A -spear to thrust through with, so that I may feel the long blade enter -and the push of the shaft. The unwearied strength of Ninus to hunt -unceasingly in the fierce sun. Still I should desire greater strength -and a stouter bow, wilder creatures to combat. The intense life of the -senses, there is never enough for them. I envy Semiramis; I would have -been ten times Semiramis. I envy Nero, because of the great concourse -of beauty he saw. I should like to be loved by every beautiful woman -on earth, from the swart Nubian to the white and divine Greek. - -Wine is pleasant and meat refreshing; but though I own with absolute -honesty that I like them, these are the least of all. Of these two -only have I ever had enough. The vehemence of exertion, the vehemence -of the spear, the vehemence of sunlight and life, the insatiate desire -of insatiate Semiramis, the still more insatiate desire of love, divine -and beautiful, the uncontrollable adoration of beauty, these--these: -give me these in greater abundance than was ever known to man or woman. -The strength of Hercules, the fulness of the senses, the richness of -life, would not in the least impair my desire of soul-life. On the -reverse, with every stronger beat of the pulse my desire of soul-life -would expand. So it has ever been with me; in hard exercise, in -sensuous pleasure, in the embrace of the sunlight, even in the drinking -of a glass of wine, my heart has been lifted the higher towards -perfection of soul. Fulness of physical life causes a deeper desire of -soul-life. - -Let me be physically perfect, in shape, vigour, and movement. My -frame, naturally slender, will not respond to labour, and increase in -proportion to effort, nor will exposure harden a delicate skin. It -disappoints me so far, but my spirit rises with the effort, and my -thought opens. This is the only profit of frost, the pleasure of -winter, to conquer cold, and to feel braced and strengthened by that -whose province it is to wither and destroy, making of cold, life's -enemy, life's renewer. The black north wind hardens the resolution as -steel is tempered in ice-water. It is a sensual joy, as sensuous as -the warm embrace of the sunlight, but fulness of physical life ever -brings to me a more eager desire of soul-life. - -Splendid it is to feel the boat rise to the roller, or forced through -by the sail to shear the foam aside like a share; splendid to undulate -as the chest lies on the wave, swimming, the brimming ocean round: then -I know and feel its deep strong tide, its immense fulness, and the sun -glowing over; splendid to climb the steep green hill: in these I feel -myself, I drink the exquisite joy of the senses, and my soul lifts -itself with them. It is beautiful even to watch a fine horse gallop, -the long stride, the rush of the wind as he passes--my heart beats -quicker to the thud of the hoofs, and I feel his strength. Gladly -would I have the strength of the Tartar stallion roaming the wild -steppe; that very strength, what vehemence of soul-thought would -accompany it. But I should like it, too, for itself. For I believe, -with all my heart, in the body and the flesh, and believe that it -should be increased and made more beautiful by every means. I -believe--I do more than think--I believe it to be a sacred duty, -incumbent upon every one, man and woman, to add to and encourage their -physical life, by exercise, and in every manner. A sacred duty each -towards himself, and each towards the whole of the human race. Each -one of us should do some little part for the physical good of the -race--health, strength, vigour. There is no harm therein to the soul: -on the contrary, those who stunt their physical life are most certainly -stunting their souls. - -I believe all manner of asceticism to be the vilest -blasphemy--blasphemy towards the whole of the human race. I believe in -the flesh and the body, which is worthy of worship--to see a perfect -human body unveiled causes a sense of worship. The ascetics are the -only persons who are impure. Increase of physical beauty is attended -by increase of soul beauty. The soul is the high even by gazing on -beauty. Let me be fleshly perfect. - -It is in myself that I desire increase, profit, and exaltation of body, -mind, and soul. The surroundings, the clothes, the dwelling, the -social status, the circumstances are to me utterly indifferent. Let -the floor of the room be bare, let the furniture be a plank table, the -bed a mere pallet. Let the house be plain and simple, but in the midst -of air and light. These are enough--a cave would be enough; in a -warmer climate the open air would suffice. Let me be furnished in -myself with health, safety, strength, the perfection of physical -existence; let my mind be furnished with highest thoughts of soul-life. -Let me be in myself myself fully. The pageantry of power, the still -more foolish pageantry of wealth, the senseless precedence of place; -words fail me to express my utter contempt for such pleasure or such -ambitions. Let me be in myself myself fully, and those I love equally -so. - -It is enough to lie on the sward in the shadow of green boughs, to -listen to the songs of summer, to drink in the sunlight, the air, the -flowers, the sky, the beauty of all. Or upon the hill-tops to watch -the white clouds rising over the curved hill-lines, their shadows -descending the slope. Or on the beach to listen to the sweet sigh as -the smooth sea runs up and recedes. It is lying beside the immortals, -in-drawing the life of the ocean, the earth, and the sun. - -I want to be always in company with these, with earth, and sun, and -sea, and stars by night. The pettiness of house-life--chairs and -tables--and the pettiness of observances, the petty necessity of -useless labour, useless because productive of nothing, chafe me the -year through. I want to be always in company with the sun, and sea, -and earth. These, and the stars by night, are my natural companions. -My heart looks back and sympathises with all the joy and life of -ancient time. With the circling dance burned in still attitude on the -vase; with the chase and the hunter eagerly pursuing, whose javelin -trembles to be thrown; with the extreme fury of feeling, the whirl of -joy in the warriors from Marathon to the last battle of Rome, not with -the slaughter, but with the passion--the life in the passion; with the -garlands and the flowers; with all the breathing busts that have panted -beneath the sun. O beautiful human life! Tears come in my eyes as I -think of it. So beautiful, so inexpressibly beautiful! - -So deep is the passion of life that, if it were possible to live again, -it must be exquisite to die pushing the eager breast against the sword. -In the flush of strength to face the sharp pain joyously, and laugh in -the last glance of the sun--if only to live again, now on earth, were -possible. So subtle is the chord of life that sometimes to watch -troops marching in rhythmic order, undulating along the column as the -feet are lifted, brings tears in my eyes. Yet could I have in my own -heart all the passion, the love and joy, burned in the breasts that -have panted, breathing deeply, since the hour of Ilion, yet still I -should desire more. How willingly I would strew the paths of all with -flowers; how beautiful a delight to make the world joyous! The song -should never be silent, the dance never still, the laugh should sound -like water which runs for ever. - -I would submit to a severe discipline, and to go without many things -cheerfully, for the good and happiness of the human race in the future. -Each one of us should do something, however small, towards that great -end. At the present time the labour of our predecessors in this -country, in all other countries of the earth, is entirely wasted. We -live--that is, we snatch an existence--and our works become nothing. -The piling up of fortunes, the building of cities, the establishment of -immense commerce, ends in a cipher. These objects are so outside my -idea that I cannot understand them, and look upon the struggle in -amazement. Not even the pressure of poverty can force upon me an -understanding of, and sympathy with, these things. It is the human -being as the human being of whom I think. That the human being as the -human being, nude--apart altogether from money, clothing, houses, -properties--should enjoy greater health, strength, safety, beauty, and -happiness, I would gladly agree to a discipline like that of Sparta. -The Spartan method did produce the finest race of men, and Sparta was -famous in antiquity for the most beautiful women. So far, therefore, -it fits exactly to my ideas. - -No science of modern times has yet discovered a plan to meet the -requirements of the millions who live now, no plan by which they might -attain similar physical proportion. Some increase of longevity, some -slight improvement in the general health is promised, and these are -great things, but far, far beneath the ideal. Probably the whole mode -of thought of the nations must be altered before physical progress is -possible. Not while money, furniture, affected show and the pageantry -of wealth are the ambitions of the multitude can the multitude become -ideal in form. When the ambition of the multitude is fixed on the -ideal of form and beauty, then that ideal will become immediately -possible, and a marked advance towards it could be made in three -generations. Glad, indeed, should I be to discover something that would -help towards this end. - -How pleasant it would be each day to think, To-day I have done -something that will tend to render future generations more happy. The -very thought would make this hour sweeter. It is absolutely necessary -that something of this kind should be discovered. First, we must lay -down the axiom that as yet nothing has been found; we have nothing to -start with; all has to be begun afresh. All courses or methods of -human life have hitherto been failures. Some course of life is needed -based on things that are, irrespective of tradition. The physical -ideal must be kept steadily in view. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -AN enumeration of the useless would almost be an enumeration of -everything hitherto pursued. For instance, to go back as far as -possible, the study and labour expended on Egyptian inscriptions and -papyri, which contain nothing but doubtful, because laudatory history, -invocations to idols, and similar matters: all these labours are in -vain. Take a broom and sweep the papyri away into the dust. The -Assyrian terra-cotta tablets, some recording fables, and some even -sadder--contracts between men whose bodies were dust twenty centuries -since--take a hammer and demolish them. Set a battery to beat down the -pyramids, and a mind-battery to destroy the deadening influence of -tradition. The Greek statue lives to this day, and has the highest use -of all, the use of true beauty. The Greek and Roman philosophers have -the value of furnishing the mind with material to think from. Egyptian -and Assyrian, mediaeval and eighteenth-century culture, miscalled, are -all alike mere dust, and absolutely useless. - -There is a mass of knowledge so called at the present day equally -useless, and nothing but an encumbrance. We are forced by -circumstances to become familiar with it, but the time expended on it -is lost. No physical ideal--far less any soul-ideal--will ever be -reached by it. In a recent generation erudition in the text of the -classics was considered the most honourable of pursuits; certainly -nothing could be less valuable. In our own generation, another species -of erudition is lauded--erudition in the laws of matter--which, in -itself, is but one degree better. The study of matter for matter's -sake is despicable; if any can turn that study to advance the ideal of -life, it immediately becomes most valuable. But not without the human -ideal. It is nothing to me if the planets revolve around the sun, or -the sun around the earth, unless I can thereby gather an increase of -body or mind. As the conception of the planets revolving around the -sun, the present astronomical conception of the heavens, is distinctly -grander than that of Ptolemy, it is therefore superior, and a gain to -the human mind. So with other sciences, not immediately useful, yet if -they furnish the mind with material of thought, they are an advance. - -But not in themselves--only in conjunction with the human ideal. Once -let that slip out of the thought, and science is of no more use than -the invocations in the Egyptian papyri. The world would be the gainer -if the Nile rose and swept away pyramid and tomb, sarcophagus, papyri, -and inscription; for it seems as if most of the superstitions which -still to this hour, in our own country, hold minds in their sway, -originated in Egypt. The world would be the gainer if a Nile flood of -new thought arose and swept away the past, concentrating the effort of -all the races of the earth upon man's body, that it might reach an -ideal of shape, and health, and happiness. - -Nothing is of any use unless it gives me a stronger body and mind, a -more beautiful body, a happy existence, and a soul-life now. The last -phase of philosophy is equally useless with the rest. The belief that -the human mind was evolved, in the process of unnumbered years, from a -fragment of palpitating slime through a thousand gradations, is a -modern superstition, and proceeds upon assumption alone. - -Nothing is evolved, no evolution takes place, there is no record of -such an event; it is pure assertion. The theory fascinates many, -because they find, upon study of physiology, that the gradations -between animal and vegetable are so fine and so close together, as if a -common web bound them together. But although they stand so near they -never change places. They are like the figures on the face of a clock; -there are minute dots between, apparently connecting each with the -other, and the hands move round over all. Yet ten never becomes -twelve, and each second even is parted from the next, as you may hear -by listening to the beat. So the gradations of life, past and present, -though standing close together never change places. Nothing is -evolved. There is no evolution any more than there is any design in -nature. By standing face to face with nature, and not from books, I -have convinced myself that there is no design and no evolution. What -there is, what was the cause, how and why, is not yet known; certainly -it was neither of these. - -But it may be argued the world must have been created, or it must have -been made of existing things, or it must have been evolved, or it must -have existed for ever, through all eternity. I think not. I do not -think that either of these are "musts," nor that any "must" has yet -been discovered; not even that there "must" be a first cause. There -may be other things--other physical forces even--of which we know -nothing. I strongly suspect there are. There may be other ideas -altogether from any we have hitherto had the use of. For many ages our -ideas have been confined to two or three. We have conceived the idea -of creation, which is the highest and grandest of all, if not -historically true; we have conceived the idea of design, that is of an -intelligence making order and revolution of chaos; and we have -conceived the idea of evolution by physical laws of matter, which, -though now so much insisted on, is as ancient as the Greek -philosophers. But there may be another alternative; I think there are -other alternatives. - -Whenever the mind obtains a wider view we may find that origin. For -instance, is not always due to what is understood by cause. At this -moment the mind is unable to conceive of anything happening, or of -anything coming into existence, without a cause. From cause to effect -is the sequence of our ideas. But I think that if at some time we -should obtain an altogether different and broader sequence of ideas, we -may discover that there are various other alternatives. As the world, -and the universe at large, was not constructed according to plan, so it -is clear that the sequence or circle of ideas which includes plan, and -cause, and effect, are not in the circle of ideas which would correctly -explain it. Put aside the plan-circle of ideas, and it will at once be -evident that there is no inherent necessity or "must." There is no -inherent necessity for a first cause, or that the world and the -universe was created, or that it was shaped of existing matter, or that -it evolved itself and its inhabitants, or that the cosmos has existed -in varying forms for ever. There may be other alternatives altogether. -The only idea I can give is the idea that there is another idea. - -In this "must"--"it must follow"--lies my objection to the logic of -science. The arguments proceed from premises to conclusions, and end -with the assumption "it therefore follows." But I say that, however -carefully the argument be built up, even though apparently flawless, -there is no such thing at present as "it must follow." Human ideas at -present naturally form a plan, and a balanced design; they might be -indicated by a geometrical figure, an upright straight line in the -centre, and branching from that straight line curves on either hand -exactly equal to each other. In drawing that is how we are taught, to -balance the outline or curves on one side with the curves on the other. -In nature and in fact there is no such thing. The stem of a tree -represents the upright line, but the branches do not balance; those on -one side are larger or longer than those on the other. Nothing is -straight, but all things curved, crooked, and unequal. - -The human body is the most remarkable instance of inequality, lack of -balance, and want of plan. The exterior is beautiful in its lines, but -the two hands, the two feet, the two sides of the face, the two sides -of the profile, are not precisely equal. The very nails of the fingers -are set ajar, as it were, to the lines of the hand, and not quite -straight. Examination of the interior organs shows a total absence of -balance. The heart is not in the centre, nor do the organs correspond -in any way. The viscera are wholly opposed to plan. Coming, lastly, -to the bones, these have no humanity, as it were, of shape; they are -neither round nor square; the first sight of them causes a sense of -horror, so extra-human are they in shape; there is no balance of design -in them. These are very brief examples, but the whole universe, so far -as it can be investigated, is equally unequal. No straight line runs -through it, with balanced curves each side. - -Let this thought now be carried into the realms of thought. The mind, -or circle, or sequence of ideas, acts, or thinks, or exists in a -balance, or what seems a balance to it. A straight line of thought is -set in the centre, with equal branches each side, and with a generally -rounded outline. But this corresponds to nothing in tangible fact. -Hence I think, by analogy, we may suppose that neither does it -correspond to the circle of ideas which caused us and all things to be, -or, at all events, to the circle of ideas which accurately understand -us and all things. There are other ideas altogether. From standing -face to face so long with the real earth, the real sun, and the real -sea, I am firmly convinced that there is an immense range of thought -quite unknown to us yet. - -The problem of my own existence also convinces me that there is much -more. The questions are: Did my soul exist before my body was formed? -Or did it come into life with my body, as a product, like a flame, of -combustion? What will become of it after death? Will it simply go out -like a flame and become non-existent, or will it live for ever in one -or other mode? To these questions I am unable to find any answer -whatsoever. In our present range of ideas there is no reply to them. -I may have previously existed; I may not have previously existed. I -may be a product of combustion; I may exist on after physical life is -suspended, or I may not. No demonstration is possible. But what I -want to say is that the alternatives of extinction or immortality may -not be the only alternatives. There may be something else, more -wonderful than immortality, and far beyond and above that idea. There -may be something immeasurably superior to it. As our ideas have run in -circles for centuries, it is difficult to find words to express the -idea that there are other ideas. For myself, though I cannot fully -express myself, I feel fully convinced that there is a vast immensity -of thought, of existence, and of other things beyond even immortal -existence. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -IN human affairs everything happens by chance--that is, in defiance of -human ideas, and without any direction of an intelligence. A man -bathes in a pool, a crocodile seizes and lacerates his flesh. If any -one maintains that an intelligence directed that cruelty, I can only -reply that his mind is under an illusion. A man is caught by a -revolving shaft and torn to pieces, limb from limb. There is no -directing intelligence in human affairs, no protection, and no -assistance. Those who act uprightly are not rewarded, but they and -their children often wander in the utmost indigence. Those who do evil -are not always punished, but frequently flourish and have happy -children. Rewards and punishments are purely human institutions, and -if government be relaxed they entirely disappear. No intelligence -whatever interferes in human affairs. There is a most senseless belief -now prevalent that effort, and work, and cleverness, perseverance and -industry, are invariably successful. Were this the case, every man -would enjoy a competence, at least, and be free from the cares of -money. This is an illusion almost equal to the superstition of a -directing intelligence, which every fact and every consideration -disproves. - -How can I adequately express my contempt for the assertion that all -things occur for the best, for a wise and beneficent end, and are -ordered by a humane intelligence! It is the most utter falsehood and a -crime against the human race. Even in my brief time I have been -contemporary with events of the most horrible character; as when the -mothers in the Balkans cast their own children from the train to parish -in the snow; as when the Princess Alice foundered, and six hundred -human beings were smothered in foul water; as when the hecatomb of two -thousand maidens were burned in the church at Santiago; as when the -miserable creatures tore at the walls of the Vienna theatre. Consider -only the fates which overtake the little children. Human suffering is -so great, so endless, so awful that I can hardly write of it. I could -not go into hospitals and face it, as some do, lest my mind should be -temporarily overcome. The whole and the worst the worst pessimist can -say is far beneath the least particle of the truth, so immense is the -misery of man. It is the duty of all rational beings to acknowledge -the truth. There is not the least trace of directing intelligence in -human affairs. This is a foundation of hope, because, if the present -condition of things were ordered by a superior power, there would be no -possibility of improving it for the better in the spite of that power. -Acknowledging that no such direction exists, all things become at once -plastic to our will. - -The credit given by the unthinking to the statement that all affairs -are directed has been the bane of the world since the days of the -Egyptian papyri and the origin of superstition. So long as men firmly -believe that everything is fixed for them, so long is progress -impossible. If you argue yourself into the belief that you cannot walk -to a place, you cannot walk there. But if you start you can walk there -easily. Any one who will consider the affairs of the world at large, -and of the individual, will see that they do not proceed in the manner -they would do for our own happiness if a man of humane breadth of view -were placed at their head with unlimited power, such as is credited to -the intelligence which does not exist. A man of intellect and humanity -could cause everything to happen in an infinitely superior manner. -Could one like the divine Julius--humane, generous, broadest of view, -deep thinking--wield such power, certainly every human being would -enjoy happiness. - -But that which is thoughtlessly credited to a non-existent intelligence -should really be claimed and exercised by the human race. It is -ourselves who should direct our affairs, protecting ourselves from -pain, assisting ourselves, succouring and rendering our lives happy. -We must do for ourselves what superstition has hitherto supposed an -intelligence to do for us. Nothing whatsoever is done for us. We are -born naked, and not even protected by a shaggy covering. Nothing is -done for us. The first and strongest command (using the word to convey -the idea only) that nature, the universe, our own bodies give, is to do -everything for ourselves. The sea does not make boats for us, nor the -earth of her own will build us hospitals. The injured lie bleeding, -and no invisible power lifts them up. The maidens were scorched in the -midst of their devotions, and their remains make a mound hundreds of -yards long. The infants perished in the snow, and the ravens tore -their limbs. Those in the theatre crushed each other to the -death--agony. For how long, for how many thousand years, must the -earth and the sea, and the fire and the air, utter these things and -force them upon us before they are admitted in their full significance? - -These things speak with a voice of thunder. From every human being -whose body has been racked by pain; from every human being who has -suffered from accident or disease; from every human being drowned, -burned, or slain by negligence, there goes up a continually increasing -cry louder than the thunder. An awe-inspiring cry dread to listen to, -which no one dares listen to, against which ears are stopped by the wax -of superstition and the wax of criminal selfishness:--These miseries -are your doing, because you have mind and though, and could have -prevented them. You can prevent them in the future. You do not even -try. - -It is perfectly certain that all diseases without exception are -preventable, or, if not so, that they can be so weakened as to do no -harm. It is perfectly certain that all accidents are preventable; -there is not one that does not arise from folly or negligence. All -accidents are crimes. It is perfectly certain that all human beings -are capable of physical happiness. It is absolutely incontrovertible -that the ideal shape of the human being is attainable to the exclusion -of deformities. It is incontrovertible that there is no necessity for -any man to die but of old age, and that if death cannot be prevented -life can be prolonged far beyond the farthest now known. It is -incontrovertible that at the present time no one ever dies of old age. -Not one single person ever dies of old age, or of natural causes, for -there is no such thing as a natural cause of death. They die of -disease or weakness which is the result of disease either in themselves -or in their ancestors. No such thing as old age is known to us. We do -not even know what old age would be like, because no one ever lives to -it. - -Our bodies are full of unsuspected flaws, handed down it may be for -thousands of years, and it is of these that we die, and not of natural -decay. Till these are eliminated, or as nearly eliminated as possible, -we shall never even know what true old age is like, nor what the true -natural limit of human life is. The utmost limit now appears to be -about one hundred and five years, but as each person who has got so far -has died of weaknesses inherited through thousands of years, it is -impossible to say to what number of years he would have reached in a -natural state. It seems more than possible that true old age--the slow -and natural decay of the body apart from inherited flaw--would be free -from very many, if not all, of the petty miseries which now render -extreme age a doubtful blessing. If the limbs grew weaker they would -not totter; if the teeth dropped it would not be till the last; if the -eyes were less strong they would not be quite dim; nor would the mind -lose its memory. - -But now we see eyes become dim and artifical aid needed in comparative -youth, and teeth drop out in mere childhood. Many men and women lose -teeth before they are twenty. This simple fact is evidence enough of -inherited weakness or flaw. How could a person who had lost teeth -before twenty be ever said to die of old age, though he died at a -hundred and ten? Death is not a supernatural event; it is an event of -the most materialistic character, and may certainly be postponed, by -the united efforts of the human race, to a period far more distant from -the date of birth than has been the case during the historic period. -The question has often been debated in my mind whether death is or is -not wholly preventable; whether, if the entire human race were united -in their efforts to eliminate causes of decay, death might not also be -altogether eliminated. - -If we consider ourselves by the analogy of animals, trees, and other -living creatures, the reply is that, however postponed, in long process -of time the tissues must wither. Suppose an ideal man, free from -inherited flaw, then though his age might be prolonged to several -centuries, in the end the natural body must wear out. That is true so -far. But it so happens that the analogy is not just, and therefore the -conclusions it points to are not tenable. - -Man is altogether different from every other animal, every other living -creature known. He is different in body. In his purely natural -state--in his true natural state--he is immeasurably stronger. No -animal approaches to the physical perfection of which a man is capable. -He can weary the strongest horse, he can outrun the swiftest stag, he -can bear extremes of heat and cold hunger and thirst, which would -exterminate every known living thing. Merely in bodily strength he is -superior to all. The stories of antiquity, which were deemed fables, -may be fables historically, but search has shown that they are not -intrinsically fables. Man of flesh and blood is capable of all that -Ajax, all that Hercules did. Feats in modern days have surpassed -these, as when Webb swam the Channel; mythology contains nothing equal -to that. The difference does not end here. Animals think to a certain -extent, but if their conceptions be ever so clever, not having hands -they cannot execute them. - -I myself maintain that the mind of man is practically infinite. It can -understand anything brought before it. It has not the power of its own -motion to bring everything before it, but when anything is brought it -is understood. It is like sitting in a room with one window; you -cannot compel everything to pass the window, but whatever does pass is -seen. It is like a magnifying glass, which magnifies and explains -everything brought into its focus. The mind of man is infinite. -Beyond this, man has a soul. I do not use this word in the common -sense which circumstances have given to it. I use it as the only term -to express that inner consciousness which aspires. These brief reasons -show that the analogy is imperfect, and that therefore, although an -ideal animal--a horse, a dog, a lion--must die, it does not follow that -an ideal man must. He has a body possessed of exceptional recuperative -powers, which, under proper conditions, continually repairs itself. He -has a mind by which he can select remedies, and select his course and -carefully restore the waste of tissue. He has a soul, as yet, it seems -to me, lying in abeyance, by the aid of which he may yet discover -things now deemed supernatural. - -Considering these things I am obliged by facts and incontrovertible -argument to conclude that death is not inevitable to the ideal man. He -is shaped for a species of physical immortality. The beauty of form of -the ideal human being indicates immortality--the contour, the curve, -the outline answer to the idea of life. In the course of ages united -effort long continued may eliminate those causes of decay which have -grown up in ages past, and after that has been done advance farther and -improve the natural state. As a river brings down suspended particles -of sand, and depositing them at its mouth forms a delta and a new -country; as the air and the rain and the heat of the sun desiccate the -rocks and slowly wear down mountains into sand, so the united action of -the human race, continued through centuries, may build up the ideal man -and woman. Each individual labouring in his day through geological -time in front must produce an effect. The instance of Sparta, where so -much was done in a few centuries, is almost proof of it. - -The truth is, we die through our ancestors; we are murdered by our -ancestors. Their dead hands stretch forth from the tomb and drag us -down to their mouldering bones. We in our turn are now at this moment -preparing death for our unborn posterity. This day those that die do -not die in the sense of old age, they are slain. Nothing has been -accumulated for our benefit in ages past. All the labour and the toil -of so many millions continued through such vistas of time, down to -those millions who at this hour are rushing to and fro in London, has -accumulated nothing for us. Nothing for our good. The only things -that have been stored up have been for our evil and destruction, -diseases and weaknesses crossed and cultivated and rendered almost part -and parcel of our very bones. Now let us begin to roll back the tide -of death, and to set our faces steadily to a future of life. It should -be the sacred and sworn duty of every one, once at least during -lifetime, to do something in person towards this end. It would be a -delight and pleasure to me to do something every day, were it ever so -minute. To reflect that another human being, if at a distance of ten -thousand years from the year 1883, would enjoy one hour's more life, in -the sense of fulness of life, in consequence of anything I had done in -my little span, would be to me a peace of soul. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -UNITED effort through geological time in front is but the beginning of -an idea. I am convinced that much more can be done, and that the -length of time may be almost immeasurably shortened. The general -principles that are now in operation are of the simplest and most -elementary character, yet they have already made considerable -difference. I am not content with these. There must be much -more--there must be things which are at present unknown by whose aid -advance may be made. Research proceeds upon the same old lines and -runs in the ancient grooves. Further, it is restricted by the -ultra-practical views which are alone deemed reasonable. But there -should be no limit placed on the mind. The purely ideal is as worthy -of pursuit as the practical, and the mind is not to be pinned to dogmas -of science any more than to dogmas of superstition. Most injurious of -all is the continuous circling on the same path, and it is from this -that I wish to free my mind. - -The pursuit of theory--the organon of pure thought--has led -incidentally to great discoveries, and for myself I am convinced it is -of the highest value. The process of experiment has produced much, and -has applied what was previously found. Empiricism is worthy of careful -re-working out, for it is a fact that most things are more or less -empirical, especially in medicine. Denial may be given to this -statement, nevertheless it is true, and I have had practical -exemplification of it in my own experience. Observation is perhaps -more powerful an organon than either experiment or empiricism. If the -eye is always watching, and the mind on the alert, ultimately chance -supplies the solution. - -The difficulties I have encountered have generally been solved by -chance in this way. When I took an interest in archaeological -matters--an interest long since extinct--I considered that a part of an -army known to have marched in a certain direction during the Civil War -must have visited a town in which I was interested. But I exhausted -every mode of research in vain; there was no evidence of it. If the -knowledge had ever existed it had dropped again. Some years -afterwards, when my interest had ceased, and I had put such inquiries -for ever aside (being useless, like the Egyptian papyri), I was reading -in the British Museum. Presently I returned my book to the shelf, and -then slowly walked along the curving wall lined with volumes, looking -to see if I could light on anything to amuse me. I took out a volume -for a glance; it opened of itself at a certain page, and there was the -information I had so long sought--a reprint of an old pamphlet -describing the visit of the army to the town in the Civil War. So -chance answered the question in the course of time. - -And I think that, seeing how great a part chance plays in human -affairs, it is essential that study should be made of chance; it seems -to me that an organon from experiment. Then there is the inner -consciousness--the psyche--that has never yet been brought to bear upon -life and its questions. Besides which there is a super-sensuous -reason. Often I have argued with myself that such and such a course was -the right one to follow, while in the intervals of thinking about it an -undercurrent of unconscious impulse has desired me to do the reverse or -to remain inactive. Sometimes it has happened that the supersensuous -reasoning has been correct, and the most faultless argument wrong. I -presume this supersensuous reasoning, preceeding independently in the -mind, arises from perceptions too delicate for analysis. From these -considerations alone I am convinced that, by the aid of ideas yet to be -discovered, the geological time in front may be immeasurably shortened. -These modes of research are not all. The psyche--the soul in me--tells -me that there is much more, that these are merely beginnings of the -crudest kind. - -I fully recognise the practical difficulty arising from the ingrained, -hereditary, and unconscious selfishness which began before history, and -has been crossed and cultivated for twelve thousand years since. This -renders me less sanguine of united effort through geological time -ahead, unless some idea can be formed to give a stronger impulse even -than selfishness, or unless the selfishness can be utilised. The -complacency with which the mass of people go about their daily task, -absolutely indifferent to all other considerations, is appalling in its -concentrated stolidity. They do not intend wrong--they intend rightly: -in truth, they work against the entire human race. So wedded and so -confirmed is the world in its narrow groove of self, so stolid and so -complacent under the immense weight of misery, so callous to its own -possibilities, and so grown to its chains, that I almost despair to see -it awakened. Cemeteries are often placed on hillsides, and the white -stones are visible far off. If the whole of the dead in a hillside -cemetery were called up alive from their tombs, and walked forth down -into the valley, it would not rouse the mass of people from the dense -pyramid of stolidity which presses on them. - -There would be gaping and marvelling and rushing about, and what then? -In a week or two the ploughman would settle down to his plough, the -carpenter to his bench, the smith to his anvil, the merchant to his -money, and the dead come to life would be utterly forgotten. No matter -in what manner the possibilities of human life are put before the -world, the crowd continues as stolid as before. Therefore nothing -hitherto done, or suggested, or thought of, is of much avail; but this -fact in no degree stays me from the search. On the contrary, the less -there has been accomplished the more anxious I am; the truth it teaches -is that the mind must be lifted out of its old grooves before anything -will be certainly begun. Erase the past from the mind--stand face to -face with the real now--and work out all anew. Call the soul to our -assistance; the soul tells me that outside all the ideas that have yet -occurred there are others, whole circles of others. - -I remember a cameo of Augustus Caesar--the head of the emperor is -graven in delicate lines, and shows the most exquisite proportions. It -is a balanced head, a head adjusted to the calmest intellect. That -head when it was living contained a circle of ideas, the largest, the -widest, the most profound current in his time. All that philosophy had -taught, all that practice, experiment, and empiricism had discovered, -was familiar to him. There was no knowledge in the ancient world but -what was accessible to the Emperor of Rome. Now at this day there are -amongst us heads as finely proportioned as that cut out in the cameo. -Though these living men do not possess arbitrary power, the advantages -of arbitrary power--as far as knowledge is concerned--are secured to -them by education, by the printing-press, and the facilities of our -era. It is reasonable to imagine a head of our time filled with the -largest, the widest, the most profound ideas current in the age. -Augustus Caesar, however great his intellect, could not in that -balanced head have possessed the ideas familiar enough to the living -head of this day. As we have a circle of ideas unknown to Augustus -Caesar, so I argue there are whole circles of ideas unknown to us. It -is these that I am so earnestly desirous of discovering. - -For nothing has as yet been of any value, however good its intent. -There is no virtue, or reputed virtue, which has not been rigidly -pursued, and things have remained as before. Men and women have -practised self-denial, and to what end? They have compelled themselves -to suffer hunger and thirst; in vain. They have clothed themselves in -sack cloth and lacerated the flesh. They have mutilated themselves. -Some have been scrupulous to bathe, and some have been scrupulous to -cake their bodies with the foulness of years. Many have devoted their -lives to assist others in sickness or poverty. Chastity has been -faithfully observed, chastity both of body and mind. Self-examination -has been pursued till it ended in a species of sacred insanity, and all -these have been of no more value than the tortures undergone by the -Indian mendicant who hangs himself up by a hook through his back. All -these are pure folly. - -Asceticism has not improved the form, or the physical well-being, or -the heart of any human being. On the contrary, the hetaira is often -the warmest hearted and the most generous. Casuistry and -self-examination are perhaps the most injurious of all the virtues, -utterly destroying independence of mind. Self-denial has had no -result, and all the self-torture of centuries has been thrown away. -Lives spent in doing good have been lives nobly wasted. Everything is -in vain. The circle of ideas we possess is too limited to aid us. We -need ideas as far outside our circle as ours are outside those that -were pondered over by Augustus Caesar. - -The most extraordinary spectacle, as it seems to me, is the vast -expenditure of labour and time wasted in obtaining mere subsistence. -As a man, in his lifetime, works hard and saves money, that his -children may be free from the cares of penury and may at least have -sufficient to eat, drink, clothe, and roof them, so the generations -that preceded us might, had they so chosen, have provided for our -subsistence. The labour and time of ten generations, properly -directed, would sustain a hundred generations succeeding to them, and -that, too, with so little self-denial on the part of the providers as -to be scarcely felt. So men now, in this generation, ought clearly to -be laying up a store, or, what is still more powerful, arranging and -organising that the generations which follow may enjoy comparative -freedom from useless labour. Instead of which, with transcendent -improvidence, the world works only for to-day, as the world worked -twelve thousand years ago, and our children's children will still have -to toil and slave for the bare necessities of life. This is, indeed an -extraordinary spectacle. - -That twelve thousand written years should have elapsed, and the human -race--able to reason and to think, and easily capable of combination in -immense armies for its own destruction--should still live from hand to -mouth, like cattle and sheep, like the animals of the field and the -birds of the woods; that there should not even be roofs to cover the -children born, unless those children labour and expend their time to -pay for them; that there should not be clothes, unless, again, time and -labour are expended to procure them; that there should not be even food -for the children of the human race, except they labour as their fathers -did twelve thousand years ago; that even water should scarce be -accessible to them, unless paid for by labour! In twelve thousand -written years the world has not yet built itself a House, nor filled a -Granary, nor organised itself for its own comfort. It is so marvellous -I cannot express the wonder with which it fills me. And more wonderful -still, if that could be, there are people so infatuated, or, rather, so -limited of view, that they glory in this state of things, declaring -that work is the main object of man's existence--work for -subsistence--and glorying in their wasted time. To argue with such is -impossible; to leave them is the only resource. - -This our earth this day produces sufficient for our existence. This -our earth produces not only a sufficiency, but a superabundance, and -pours a cornucopia of good things down upon us. Further, it produces -sufficient for stores and granaries to be filled to the rooftree for -years ahead. I verily believe that the earth in one year produces -enough food to last for thirty. Why, then, have we not enough? Why do -people die of starvation, or lead a miserable existence on the verge of -it? Why have millions upon millions to toil from morning to evening -just to gain a mere crust of bread? Because of the absolute lack of -Organisation by which such labour should produce its effect, the -absolute lack of distribution, the absolute lack even of the very idea -that such things are possible. Nay, even to mention such things, to -say that they are possible, is criminal with many. Madness could -hardly go farther. - -That selfishness has all to do with it I entirely deny. The human race -for ages upon ages has been enslaved by ignorance and by interested -persons whose object it has been to confine the minds of men, thereby -doing more injury than if with infected hands they purposely imposed -disease on the heads of the people. Almost worse than these, and at -the present day as injurious, are those persons incessantly declaring, -teaching, and impressing upon all that to work is man's highest -condition. This falsehood is the interested superstition of an age -infatuated with money, which having accumulated it cannot even expend -it in pageantry. It is a falsehood propagated for the doubtful benefit -of two or three out of ten thousand, It is the lie of a morality -founded on money only, and utterly outside and having no association -whatever with the human being in itself. Many superstitions have been -got rid of in these days; time it is that this, the last and worst, -were eradicated. - -At this hour, out of thirty-four millions who inhabit this country, -two-thirds--say twenty-two millions--live within thirty years of that -abominable institution the poorhouse. That any human being should dare -to apply to another the epithet "pauper" is, to me, the greatest, the -vilest, the most unpardonable crime that could be committed. Each -human being, by mere birth, has a birthright in this earth and all its -productions; and if they do not receive it, then it is they who are -injured, and it is not the "pauper"--oh, inexpressibly wicked word!--it -is the well-to-do, who are the criminal classes. It matters not in the -least if the poor be improvident, or drunken, or evil in any way. Food -and drink, roof and clothes, are the inalienable right of every child -born into the light. If the world does not provide it freely--not as a -grudging gift but as a right, as a son of the house sits down to -breakfast--then is the world mad. But the world is not mad, only in -ignorance--an interested ignorance, kept up by strenuous exertions, -from which infernal darkness it will, in course of time, emerge, -marvelling at the past as a man wonders at and glories in the light who -has escaped from blindness. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -This our earth produces not only a sufficiency a superabundance, but in -one year pours a cornucopia of good things forth, enough to fill us for -many years in succession. The only reason we do not enjoy it is the -want of rational organisation. I know, of course, and all who think -know, that some labour or supervision will always necessary, since the -plough must travel the furrow and the seed must must be sown; but I -maintain that a tenth, nay, a hundredth, part of the labour and slavery -now gone through will be sufficient, and that in the course of time, as -organisation perfects itself and discoveries advance, even that part -will diminish. For the rise and fall of the tides alone furnish forth -sufficient power to do automatically all the labour that is done on the -earth. Is ideal man, then, to be idle? I answer that, if so, I see no -wrong, but a great good. I deny altogether that idleness is an evil, -or that it produces evil, and I am well aware why the interested are so -bitter against idleness--namely, because it gives time for thought, and -if men had time to think their reign would come to an end. -Idleness--that is, the absence of the necessity to work for -subsistence--is a great good. - -I hope succeeding generations will be able to be ideal. I hope that -nine-tenths of their time will be leisure time; that they may enjoy -their days, and the earth, and the beauty of this beautiful world; that -they may rest by the sea and dream; that they may dance and sing, and -eat and drink. I will work towards that end with all my heart. If -employment they must have--and the restlessness of the mind will insure -that some will be followed--then they will find scope enough in the -perfection of their physical frames, in the expansion of the mind, and -in the enlargement of the soul. They shall not work for bread, but for -their souls. I am willing to divide and share all I shall ever have -for this purpose, though I think the end will rather be gained by -organisation than by sharing alone. - -In these material things, too, I think that we require another circle -of ideas, and I believe that such ideas are possible, and, in a manner -of speaking, exist. Let me exhort every one to do their utmost to -think outside and beyond our present circle of ideas. For every idea -gained is a hundred years of slavery remitted. Even with the idea of -organisation which promises most I am not satisfied, but endeavour to -get beyond and outside it, so that the time now necessary may be -shortened. Besides which, I see that many of our difficulties arise -from obscure and remote causes--obscure like the shape of bones, for -whose strange curves there is no familiar term. We must endeavour to -understand the crookedness and unfamiliar curves of the conditions of -life. Beyond that still there are other ideas. Never, never rest -contented with any circle of ideas, but always be certain that a wider -one is still possible. For my thought is like a hyperbola that -continually widens ascending. - -For grief there is no known consolation. It is useless to fill our -hearts with bubbles. A loved one gone is gone, and as to the -future--even if there is a future--it is unknown. To assure ourselves -otherwise is to soothe the mind with illusions; the bitterness of it is -inconsolable. The sentiments of trust chipped out on tombstones are -touching instances of the innate goodness of the human heart, which -naturally longs for good, and sighs itself to sleep in the hope that, -if parted, the parting is for the benefit of those that are gone. But -these inscriptions are also awful instances of the deep intellectual -darkness which presses still on the minds of men. The least thought -erases them. There is no consolation. There is no relief. There is -no hope certain; the whole system is a mere illusion. I, who hope so -much, and am so rapt up in the soul, know full well that there is no -certainty. - -The tomb cries aloud to us--its dead silence presses on the drum of the -ear like thunder, saying, Look at this, and erase your illusions; now -know the extreme value of human life; reflect on this and strew human -life with flowers; save every hour for the sunshine; let your labour be -so ordered that in future times the loved ones may dwell longer with -those who love them; open your minds; exalt your souls; widen the -sympathies of your hearts; face the things that are now as you will -face the reality of death; make joy real now to those you love, and -help forward the joy of those yet to be born. Let these facts force -the mind and the soul to the increase of thought, and the consequent -remission of misery; so that those whose time it is to die may have -enjoyed all that is possible in life. Lift up your mind and see now in -this bitterness of parting, in this absence of certainty, the fact that -there is no directing intelligence; remember that this death is not of -old age, which no one living in the world has ever seen; remember that -old age is possible, and perhaps even more than old age; and beyond -these earthly things-what? None know. But let us, turning away from -the illusion of a directing intelligence, look earnestly for something -better than a god, seek for something higher than prayer, and lift our -souls to be with the more than immortal now. - -A river runs itself clear during the night, and in sleep thought -becomes pellucid. All the hurrying to and fro, the unrest and stress, -the agitation and confusion subside. Like a sweet pure spring, thought -pours forth to meet the light, and is illumined to its depths. The -dawn at my window ever causes a desire for larger thought, the -recognition of the light at the moment of waking kindles afresh the -wish for a broad day of the mind. There is a certainty that there are -yet ideas further, and greater--that there is still a limitless beyond. -I know at that moment that there is no limit to the things that may be -yet in material and tangible shape besides the immaterial perceptions -of the soul. The dim white light of the dawn speaks it. This prophet -which has come with its wonders to the bedside of every human being for -so many thousands of years faces me once again with the upheld finger -of light. Where is the limit to that physical sign? - -From space to the sky, from the sky to the hills, and the sea; to every -blade of grass, to every leaf, to the smallest insect, to the million -waves of ocean. Yet this earth itself appears but a mote in that -sunbeam by which we are conscious of one narrow streak in the abyss. A -beam crosses my silent chamber from the window, and atoms are visible -in it; a beam slants between the fir-trees, and particles rise and fall -within, and cross it while the air each side seems void. Through the -heavens a beam slants, and we are aware of the star-stratum in which -our earth moves. But what may be without that stratum? Certainly it is -not a void. This light tells us much, but I think in the course of -time yet more delicate and subtle mediums than light may be found, and -through these we shall see into the shadows of the sky. When will it -be possible to be certain that the capacity of a single atom has been -exhausted? At any moment some fortunate incident may reveal a fresh -power. One by one the powers of light have been unfolded. - -After thousands of years the telescope opened the stars, the prism -analysed the substance of the sun, the microscope showed the minute -structure of the rocks and the tissues of living bodies. The winged -men on the Assyrian bas-reliefs, the gods of the Nile, the -chariot-borne immortals of Olympus, not the greatest of imagined beings -ever possessed in fancied attributes one-tenth the power of light. As -the swallows twitter, the dim white finger appears at my window full of -wonders, such as all the wise men in twelve thousand precedent years -never even hoped to conceive. But this is not all--light is not all; -light conceals more than it reveals; light is the darkest shadow of the -sky; besides light there are many other mediums yet to be explored. -For thousands of years the sunbeams poured on the earth, full as now of -messages, and light is not a hidden thing to be searched out with -difficulty. Full in the faces of men the rays came with their -intelligence from the sun when the papyri were painted beside the -ancient Nile, but they were not understood. - -This hour, rays or undulations of more subtle mediums are doubtless -pouring on us over the wide earth, unrecognised, and full of messages -and intelligence from the unseen. Of these we are this day as ignorant -as those who painted the papyri were of light. There is an infinity of -knowledge yet to be known, and beyond that an infinity of thought. No -mental instrument even has yet been invented by which researches can be -carried direct to the object. Whatever has been found has been -discovered by fortunate accident; in looking for one thing another has -been chanced on. A reasoning process has yet to be invented by which -to go straight to the desired end. For now the slightest particle is -enough to throw the search aside, and the most minute circumstance -sufficient to conceal obvious and brilliantly shining truths. One -summer evening sitting by my window I watched for the first star to -appear, knowing the position of the brightest in the southern sky. The -dusk came on, grew deeper, but the star did not shine. By-and-by, -other stars less bright appeared, so that it could not be the sunset -which obscured the expected one. Finally, I considered that I must -have mistaken its position, when suddenly a puff of air blew through -the branch of a pear-tree which overhung the window, a leaf moved, and -there was the star behind the leaf. - -At present the endeavour to make discoveries is like gazing at the sky -up through the boughs of an oak. Here a beautiful star shines clearly; -here a constellation is hidden by a branch; a universe by a leaf. Some -mental instrument or organon is required to enable us to distinguish -between the leaf which may be removed and a real void; when to cease to -look in one direction, and to work in another. Many men of broad brow -and great intellect lived in the days of ancient Greece, but for lack -of the accident of a lens, and of knowing the way to use a prism, they -could but conjecture imperfectly. I am in exactly the position they -were when I look beyond light. Outside my present knowledge I am -exactly in their condition. I feel that there are infinities to be -known, but they are hidden by a leaf. If any one says to himself that -the telescope, and the microscope, the prism, and other discoveries -have made all plain, then he is in the attitude of those ancient -priests who worshipped the scarabaeus or beetle. So, too, it is with -thought; outside our present circle of ideas I believe there is an -infinity of idea. All this that has been effected with light has been -done by bits of glass--mere bits of shaped glass, quickly broken, and -made of flint, so that by the rude flint our subtlest ideas are gained. -Could we employ the ocean as a lens, and force truth from the sky, even -then I think there would be much more beyond. - -Natural things are known to us only under two conditions--matter and -force, or matter and motion. A third, a fourth, a fifth--no one can -say how many conditions--may exist in the ultra-stellar space, and such -other conditions may equally exist about us now unsuspected. Something -which is neither matter nor force is difficult to conceive, yet, I -think, it is certain that there are other conditions. When the mind -succeeds in entering on a wider series, or circle of ideas, other -conditions would appear natural enough. In this effort upwards I claim -the assistance of the soul--the mind of the mind. The eye sees, the -mind deliberates on what it sees, the soul understands the operation of -the mind. Before a bridge is built, or a structure erected, or an -interoceanic canal made, there must be a plan, and before a plan the -thought in the mind. So that it is correct to say the mind bores -tunnels through the mountains, bridges the rivers, and constructs the -engines which are the pride of the world. - -This is a wonderful tool, but it is capable of work yet more wonderful -in the exploration of the heavens. Now the soul is the mind of the -mind. It can build and construct and look beyond and penetrate space, -and create. It is the keenest, the sharpest tool possessed by man. -But what would be said if a carpenter about to commence a piece of work -examined his tools and deliberately cast away that with the finest -edge? Such is the conduct of those who reject the inner mind or psyche -altogether. So great is the value of the soul that it seems to me, if -the soul lived and received its aspirations it would not matter if the -material universe melted away as snow. Many turn aside the instant the -soul is mentioned, and I sympathise with them in one sense; they fear -lest, if they acknowledge it, they will be fettered by mediaeval -conditions. My contention is that the restrictions of the mediaeval -era should entirely be cast into oblivion, but the soul recognised and -employed. Instead of slurring over the soul, I desire to see it at its -highest perfection. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -SUBTLE as the mind is, it can effect little without knowledge. It -cannot construct a bridge, or a building, or make a canal, or work a -problem in algebra, unless it is provided with information. This is -obvious, and yet some say, What can you effect by the soul? I reply -because it has had no employment. Mediaeval conditions kept it in -slumber: science refuses to accept it. We are taught to employ our -minds, and furnished with materials. The mind has its logic and -exercise of geometry, and thus assisted brings a great force to the -solution of problems. The soul remains untaught, and can effect little. - -I consider that the highest purpose of study is the education of the -soul or psyche. It is said that there is no proof of the existence of -the soul, but, arguing on the same grounds, there is no proof of the -existence of the mind, which is not a tangible thing. For myself, I -feel convinced that there is a soul, a mind of the mind--and that it -really exists. Now, glancing at the state of wild and uneducated men, -it is evident that they work with their hands and make various things -almost instinctively. But when they arrive at the idea of mind, and -say to themselves, I possess a mind, then they think and proceed -farther, forming designs and constructions both tangible and mental. - -Next then, when we say, I have a soul, we can proceed to shape things -yet further, and to see deeper, and penetrate the mystery. By denying -the existence and the power of the soul--refusing to employ it--we -should go back more than twelve thousand written years of human -history. But instead of this, I contend, we should endeavour to go -forward, and to discover a fourth Idea, and after that a fifth, and -onwards continually. - -I will not permit myself to be taken captive by observing physical -phenomena, as many evidently are. Some gases are mingled and produce a -liquid; certainly it is worth careful investigation, but it is no more -than the revolution of a wheel, which is so often seen that it excites -no surprise, though, in truth, as wonderful. So is all motion, and so -is a grain of sand; there is nothing that is not wonderful; as, for -instance, the fact of the existence of things at all. But the intense -concentration of the mind on mechanical effects appears often to render -it incapable of perceiving anything that is not mechanical. Some -compounds are observed to precipitate crystals, all of which contain -known angles. Thence it is argued that all is mechanical, and that -action occurs in set ways only. There is a tendency to lay it down as -an infallible law that because we see these things therefore everything -else that exists in space must be or move exactly in the same manner. -But I do not think that because crystals are precipitated with fixed -angles therefore the whole universe is necessarily mechanical. I think -there are things exempt from mechanical rules. The restriction of -thought to purely mechanical grooves blocks progress in the same way as -the restrictions of mediaeval superstition. Let the mind think, dream, -imagine: let it have perfect freedom. To shut out the soul is to put -us back more than twelve thousand years. - -Just as outside light, and the knowledge gained from light, there are, -I think, other mediums from which, in times to come, intelligence will -be obtained, so outside the mental and the spiritual ideas we now -possess I believe there exists a whole circle of ideas. In the -conception of the idea that there are others, I lay claim to another -idea. - -The mind is infinite and able to understand everything that is brought -before it; there is no limit to its understanding. The limit is in the -littleness of the things and the narrowness of the ideas which have -been put for it to consider. For the philosophies of old time past and -the discoveries of modern research are as nothing to it. They do not -fill it. When they have been read, the mind passes on, and asks for -more. The utmost of them, the whole together, make a mere nothing. -These things have been gathered together by immense labour, labour so -great that it is a weariness to think of it; but yet, when all is -summed up and written, the mind receives it all as easily as the hand -picks flowers. It is like one sentence--read and gone. - -The mind requires more, and more, and more. It is so strong that all -that can be put before it is devoured in a moment. Left to itself it -will not be satisfied with an invisible idol any more than with a -wooden one. An idol whose attributes are omnipresence, omnipotence, -and so on, is no greater than light or electricity, which are present -everywhere and all-powerful, and from which perhaps the thought arose. -Prayer which receives no reply must be pronounced in vain. The mind -goes on and requires more than these, something higher than prayer, -something higher than a god. - -I have been obliged to write these things by an irresistible impulse -which has worked in me since early youth. They have not been written -for the sake of argument, still less for any thought of profit, rather -indeed the reverse. They have been forced from me by earnestness of -heart, and they express my most serious convictions. For seventeen -years they have been lying in my mind, continually thought of and -pondered over. I was not more than eighteen when an inner and esoteric -meaning began to come to me from all the visible universe, and -indefinable aspirations filled me. I found them in the grass fields, -under the trees, on the hill-tops, at sunrise, and in the night. There -was a deeper meaning everywhere. The sun burned with it, the broad -front of morning beamed with it; a deep feeling entered me while gazing -at the sky in the azure noon, and in the star-lit evening. - -I was sensitive to all things, to the earth under, and the star-hollow -round about; to the least blade of grass, to the largest oak. They -seemed like exterior nerves and veins for the conveyance of feeling to -me. Sometimes a very ecstasy of exquisite enjoyment of the entire -visible universe filled me. I was aware that in reality the feeling -and the thought were in me, and not in the earth or sun; yet I was more -conscious of it when in company with these. A visit to the sea -increased the strength of the original impulse. I began to make -efforts to express these thoughts in writing, but could not succeed to -my own liking. Time went on, and harder experiences, and the pressure -of labour came, but in no degree abated the fire of first thought. -Again and again I made resolutions that I would write it, in some way -or other, and as often failed. I could express any other idea with -ease, but not this. Once especially I remember, in a short interval of -distasteful labour, walking away to a spot by a brook which skirts an -ancient Roman wall, and there trying to determine and really commence -to work. Again I failed. More time, more changes, and still the same -thought running beneath everything. At last, in 1880, in the old -castle of Pevensey, under happy circumstances, once more I resolved, -and actually did write down a few notes. Even then I could not go on, -but I kept the notes (I had destroyed all former beginnings), and in -the end, two years afterwards, commenced this book. - -After all this time and thought it is only a fragment, and a fragment -scarcely hewn. Had I not made it personal I could scarcely have put it -into any shape at all. But I felt that I could no longer delay, and -that it must be done, however imperfectly. I am only too conscious of -its imperfections, for I have as it were seventeen years of -consciousness of my own inability to express this the idea of my life. -I can only say that many of these short sentences are the result of -long-continued thought. One of the greatest difficulties I have -encountered is the lack of words to express ideas. By the word soul, -or psyche, I mean that inner consciousness which aspires. By prayer I -do not mean a request for anything preferred to a deity; I mean intense -soul-emotion, intense aspiration. The word immortal is very -inconvenient, and yet there is no other to convey the idea of -soul-life. Even these definitions are deficient, and I must leave my -book as a whole to give its own meaning to its words. - -Time has gone on, and still, after so much pondering, I feel that I -know nothing, that I have not yet begun; I have only just commenced to -realise the immensity of thought which lies outside the knowledge of -the senses. Still, on the hills and by the seashore, I seek and pray -deeper than ever. The sun burns southwards over the sea and before the -wave runs its shadow, constantly slipping on the advancing slope till -it curls and covers its dark image at the shore. Over the rim of the -horizon waves are flowing as high and wide as those that break upon the -beach. These that come to me and beat the trembling shore are like the -thoughts that have been known so long; like the ancient, iterated, and -reiterated thoughts that have broken on the strand of mind for -thousands of years. Beyond and over the horizon I feel that there are -other waves of ideas unknown to me, flowing as the stream of ocean -flows. Knowledge of facts is limitless: they lie at my feet -innumerable like the countless pebbles; knowledge of thought so -circumscribed! Ever the same thoughts come that have been written down -centuries and centuries. - -Let me launch forth and sail over the rim of the sea yonder, and when -another rim arises over that, and again and onwards into an -ever-widening ocean of idea and life. For with all the strength of the -wave, and its succeeding wave, the depth and race of the tide, the -clear definition of the sky; with all the subtle power of the great -sea, there rises an equal desire. Give me life strong and full as the -brimming ocean; give me thoughts wide as its plain; give me a soul -beyond these. Sweet is the bitter sea by the shore where the faint -blue pebbles are lapped by the green-grey wave, where the -wind-quivering foam is loth to leave the lashed stone. Sweet is the -bitter sea, and the clear green in which the gaze seeks the soul, -looking through the glass into itself. The sea thinks for me as I -listen and ponder; the sea thinks, and every boom of the wave repeats -my prayer. - -Sometimes I stay on the wet sands as the tide rises, listening to the -rush of the lines of foam in layer upon layer; the wash swells and -circles about my feet, I have my hands in it, I lift a little in my -hollowed palm, I take the life of the sea to me. My soul rising to the -immensity utters its desire-prayer with all the strength of the sea. -Or, again, the full stream of ocean beats upon the shore, and the rich -wind feeds the heart, the sun burns brightly; the sense of soul-life -burns in me like a torch. - -Leaving the shore I walk among the trees; a cloud passes, and the sweet -short rain comes mingled with sunbeams and flower-scented air. The -finches sing among the fresh green leaves of the beeches. Beautiful it -is, in summer days, to see the wheat wave, and the long grass -foam--flecked of flower yield and return to the wind. My soul of -itself always desires; these are to it as fresh food. I have found in -the hills another valley grooved in prehistoric times, where, climbing -to the top of the hollow, I can see the sea. Down in the hollow I look -up; the sky stretches over, the sun burns as it seems but just above -the hill, and the wind sweeps onward. As the sky extends beyond the -valley, so I know that there are ideas beyond the valley of my thought; -I know that there is something infinitely higher than deity. The great -sun burning in the sky, the sea, the firm earth, all the stars of night -are feeble--all, all the cosmos is feeble; it is not strong enough to -utter my prayer-desire. My soul cannot reach to its full desire of -prayer. I need no earth, or sea, or sun to think my thought. If my -thought-part--the psyche--were entirely separated from the body, and -from the earth, I should of myself desire the same. In itself my soul -desires; my existence, my soul-existence is in itself my prayer, and so -long as it exists so long will it pray that I may have the fullest -soul-life. - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Story of My Heart, by Richard Jefferies - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF MY HEART *** - -***** This file should be named 2317.txt or 2317.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/1/2317/ - -Produced by Susan L. Farley - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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