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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34910-h.zip b/34910-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..076a245 --- /dev/null +++ b/34910-h.zip diff --git a/34910-h/34910-h.htm b/34910-h/34910-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a213e4 --- /dev/null +++ b/34910-h/34910-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1290 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Inner Beauty, by Maurice Maeterlinck. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + + p.bold2 {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + h1 span, h2 span { display: block; text-align: center; } + #id1 { font-size: smaller } + + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 5px; border: none; text-align: right;} + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0px; + } /* page numbers */ + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smaller {font-size: smaller;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .mynote { background-color: #DDE; color: black; padding: .5em; margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; } /* colored box for notes at beginning of file */ + + .left {text-align: left;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem div {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inner Beauty, by Maurice Maeterlinck + +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 Inner Beauty + +Author: Maurice Maeterlinck + +Release Date: January 10, 2011 [EBook #34910] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INNER BEAUTY *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class = "mynote"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:<br /><br /> +A Table of Contents has been added.</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h1><span>The Inner Beauty</span> <span id="id1">By</span> <span>Maurice Maeterlinck</span></h1> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<div class="center"><img src="images/tp.jpg" width='506' height='700' alt="The Inner Beauty By Maurice Maeterlinck +New York A. L. Chatterton Company" /></div> + +<hr /> + +<p class="bold2">CONTENTS</p> + +<table summary="CONTENTS"> + <tr> + <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Chapter</span></td> + <td><span class="smcap">Page</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">THE INNER BEAUTY</td> + <td><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">THE INVISIBLE GOODNESS </td> + <td><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">SILENCE</td> + <td><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>THE INNER BEAUTY</span></h2> + +<p>Nothing in the whole world is so athirst for beauty as the soul, nor is +there anything to which beauty clings so readily.</p> + +<p>There is nothing in the world capable of such spontaneous uplifting, of +such speedy ennoblement; nothing that offers more scrupulous obedience +to the pure and noble commands it receives.</p> + +<p>There is nothing in the world that yields deeper submission to the +empire of a thought that is loftier than other thoughts. And on this +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>earth of ours there are but few souls that can withstand the dominion +of the soul that has suffered itself to become beautiful.</p> + +<p>In all truth might it be said that beauty is the unique aliment of our +soul, for in all places does it search for beauty, and it perishes not +of hunger even in the most degraded of lives. For indeed nothing of +beauty can pass by and be altogether unperceived. Perhaps does it never +pass by save only in our unconsciousness, but its action is no less +puissant in gloom of night than by light of day; the joy it procures may +be less tangible, but other difference there is none.</p> + +<p>Look at the most ordinary of men, at a time when a little beauty has +contrived to steal into their darkness. They have come together, it +matters not where, and for no special reason; but no sooner are they +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>assembled than their very first thought would seem to be to close the +great doors of life. Yet has each one of them, when alone, more than +once lived in accord with his soul. He has loved perhaps, of a surety he +has suffered. Inevitably must he, too, have heard the sounds that come +from the distant country of Splendor and Terror, and many an evening has +he bowed down in silence before laws that are deeper than the sea. And +yet when these men are assembled it is with the basest of things that +they love to debauch themselves. They have a strange indescribable fear +of beauty, and as their number increases so does this fear become +greater, resembling indeed their dread of silence or of a verity that is +too pure. And so true is this that, were one of them to have done +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>something heroic in the course of the day, he would ascribe wretched +motives to his conduct, thereby endeavoring to find excuses for it, and +these motives would lie readily to his hand in that lower region where +he and his fellows were assembled.</p> + +<p>And yet listen: a proud and lofty word has been spoken, a word that has +in a measure undammed the springs of life. For one instant has a soul +dared to reveal itself, even such as it is in love and sorrow, such as +it is in face of death and in the solitude that dwells around the stars +of night. Disquiet prevails, on some faces there is astonishment, others +smile. But have you never felt at moments such as those how unanimous is +the fervor wherewith every soul admires, and how unspeakably even the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>very feeblest, from the remotest depths of its dungeon, approves the +word it has recognized as akin to itself? For they have all suddenly +sprung to life again in the primitive and normal atmosphere that is +their own; and could you but hearken with angels' ears, I doubt not but +you would hear mightiest applause in that kingdom of amazing radiance +wherein the souls do dwell.</p> + +<p>Do you not think that even the most timid of them would take courage +unto themselves were but similar words to be spoken every evening? Do +you not think that men would live purer lives? And yet though the word +come not again, still will something momentous have happened, that must +leave still more momentous trace behind. Every evening will its sisters +recognize the soul that pronounced the word, and henceforth, be the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>conversation never so trivial, its mere presence will, I know not how, +add thereto something of majesty. Whatever else betide, there has been a +change that we cannot determine. No longer will such absolute power be +vested in the baser side of things, and henceforth, even the most +terror-stricken of souls will know that there is somewhere a place of refuge....</p> + +<p>Certain it is that the natural and primitive relationship of soul to +soul is a relationship of beauty. For beauty is the only language of our +soul; none other is known to it. It has no other life, it can produce +nothing else, in nothing else can it take interest. And therefore it is +that the most oppressed, nay, the most degraded of souls—if it may +truly be said that a soul can be degraded—immediately hail with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>acclamation every thought, every word or deed, that is great and +beautiful.</p> + +<p>Beauty is the only element wherewith the soul is organically connected, +and it has no other standard of judgment. This is brought home to us at +every moment of our life, and is no less evident to the man by whom +beauty may more than once have been denied than to him who is ever +seeking it in his heart. Should a day come when you stand in profoundest +need of another's sympathy, would you go to him who was wont to greet +the passage of beauty with a sneering smile? Would you go to him whose +shake of the head had sullied a generous action or a mere impulse that +was pure? Even though perhaps you had been of those who commended him, +you would none the less, when it was truth that knocked at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> your door, +turn to the man who had known how to prostrate himself and love. In its +very depths had your soul passed its judgment, and it is the silent and +unerring judgment that will rise to the surface, after thirty years +perhaps, and send you towards a sister who shall be more truly you than +you are yourself, for that she has been nearer to beauty.... There needs +but so little to encourage beauty in our soul; so little to awaken the +slumbering angels; or perhaps is there no need of awakening—it is +enough that we lull them not to sleep.</p> + +<p>It requires more effort to fall, perhaps, than to rise.</p> + +<p>Can we, without putting constraint upon ourselves, confine our thoughts +to everyday things at times when the sea stretches before us, and we are +face to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> face with the night? And what soul is there but knows that it +is ever confronting the sea, ever in presence of an eternal night?</p> + +<p>Did we but dread beauty less it would come about that nought else in +life would be visible; for in reality it is beauty that underlies +everything, it is beauty alone that exists. There is no soul but is +conscious of this, none that is not in readiness; but where are those +that hide not their beauty? And yet must one of them "begin." Why not +dare to be the one to "begin." The others are all watching eagerly +around us like little children in front of a marvelous place. They press +upon the threshold, whispering to each other and peering through every +crevice, but there is not one who dares put his shoulder to the door. +They are all waiting for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> some grown-up person to come and fling it +open. But hardly ever does such a one pass by.</p> + +<p>And yet what is needed to become the grown-up person for whom they lie +in wait? So little! The soul is not exacting. A thought that is almost +beautiful—a thought that you speak not, but that you cherish within you +at this moment, will irradiate you as though you were a transparent +vase. They will see it and their greeting to you will be very different +than had you been meditating how best to deceive your brother.</p> + +<p>We are surprised when certain men tell us that they have never come +across real ugliness, that they cannot conceive that a soul can be base.</p> + +<p>Yet need there be no cause for surprise. These men had "begun." They +themselves had been the first to be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>beautiful, and had therefore +attracted all the beauty that passed by, as a lighthouse attracts the +vessels from the four corners of the horizon. But there are those who +complain of women, for instance, never dreaming that, the first time a +man meets a woman, a single word or thought that denies the beautiful or +profound will be enough to poison for ever his existence in her soul. +"For my part," said a sage to me one day, "I have never come across a +single woman who did not bring to me something that was great." He was +great himself first of all; therein lay his secret.</p> + +<p>There is one thing only that the soul can never forgive; it is to have +been compelled to behold, or share, or pass close to an ugly action, +word, or thought. It cannot forgive, for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>forgiveness here were but the +denial of itself.</p> + +<p>And yet with the generality of men, ingenuity, strength and skill do but +imply that the soul must first of all be banished from their life, and +that every impulse that lies too deep must be carefully brushed aside. +Even in love do they act thus, and therefore, it is that the woman, who +is so much nearer the truth, can scarcely ever live a moment of the true +life with them. It is as though men dreaded the contact of their soul, +and were anxious to keep its beauty at immeasurable distance. Whereas, +on the contrary, we should endeavor to move in advance of ourselves.</p> + +<p>If at this moment you think or say something that is too beautiful to be +true in you—if you have but endeavored<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> to think or say it to-day, on +the morrow it will be true. We must try to be more beautiful than +ourselves; we shall never distance our soul.</p> + +<p>We can never err when it is question of silent or hidden beauty. +Besides, so long as the spring within us be limpid, it matters but +little whether error there be or not. But do any of us ever dream of +making the slightest unseen effort? And yet in the domain where we are +everything is effective, for that everything is waiting.</p> + +<p>All the doors are unlocked, we have but to push them open, and the +palace is full of manacled queens.</p> + +<p>A single word will very often suffice to clear the mountain of refuse.</p> + +<p>Why not have the courage to meet a base question with a noble answer? Do +you imagine it would pass quite <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>unnoticed or merely arouse surprise? Do +you not think it would be more akin to the discourse that would +naturally be held between two souls? We know not where it may give +encouragement, where freedom. Even he who rejects your word will, in +spite of himself, have taken a step towards the beauty that is within him.</p> + +<p>Nothing of beauty dies without having purified something, nor can aught +of beauty be lost. Let us not be afraid of sowing it along the road. It +may remain there for weeks or years, but like the diamond it cannot +dissolve, and finally there will pass by some one whom its glitter will +attract; he will pick it up and go his way, rejoicing. Then why keep +back a lofty, beautiful word, for that you doubt whether others will +understand? An instant of higher<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> goodness was impending over you; why +hinder its coming, even though you believe not that those about you will +profit thereby? What if you are among men of the valley, is that +sufficient reason for checking the instinctive movement of your soul +towards the mountain peaks? Does darkness rob deep feeling of its power?</p> + +<p>Have the blind nought but their eyes wherewith to distinguish those who +love them from those who love them not? Can the beauty not exist that is +not understood, and is there not in every man something that does +understand—in regions far beyond what he seems to understand, far +beyond, too, what he believes he understands? "Even to the very +wretchedest of all," said to me one day the loftiest minded creature it +has ever been my happiness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> to know, "even to the very wretchedest of +all I never have the courage to say anything in reply that is ugly or +mediocre." I have for a long time followed that man's life, and have +seen the inexplicable power he exercised over the most obscure, the most +unapproachable, the blindest, even the most rebellious of souls. For no +tongue can tell the power of a soul that strives to live in an +atmosphere of beauty, and is actively beautiful in itself. And indeed is +it not the quality of this activity that renders life either miserable or divine?</p> + +<p>If we could but probe to the root of things it might well be discovered +that it is by the strength of some souls that are beautiful that others +are sustained in life.</p> + +<p>Is it not the idea we each form of certain chosen ones that constitutes +the only living, effective morality? But in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> this idea how much is there +of the soul that is chosen, how much of him who chooses?</p> + +<p>Do not these things blend very mysteriously, and does not this ideal +morality lie infinitely deeper than the morality of the most beautiful +books? A far-reaching influence exists therein whose limits it is indeed +difficult to define, and a fountain of strength whereat we all of us +drink many times a day. Would not any weakness in one of those creatures +whom you thought perfect, and loved in the region of beauty, at once +lessen your confidence in the universal greatness of things, and would +your admiration for them suffer?</p> + +<p>And again, I doubt whether anything in the world can beautify a soul +more spontaneously, more naturally, than the knowledge that somewhere in +its <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>neighborhood there exists a pure and noble being whom it can +unreservedly love. When the soul has veritably drawn near to such a +being, beauty is no longer a lovely, lifeless thing, that one exhibits +to the stranger, for it suddenly takes unto itself an imperious +existence, and its activity becomes so natural as to be henceforth +irresistible. Wherefore you will do well to think it over, for none are +alone, and those who are good must watch.</p> + +<p>Plotinus, in the eighth book of the fifth "Ennead," after speaking of +the beauty that is "intelligible"—<i>i. e.</i> divine—concludes thus: "As +regards ourselves, we are beautiful when we belong to ourselves, and +ugly when we lower ourselves to our inferior nature. Also are we +beautiful when we know such knowledge." Bear it in mind,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> however, that +here we are on the mountains, where not to know oneself means far more +than mere ignorance of what takes place within us at moments of jealousy +or love, fear or envy, happiness or unhappiness. Here not to know +oneself means to be unconscious of all the divine that throbs in man.</p> + +<p>As we wander from the gods within us so does ugliness enwrap us; as we +discover them, so do we become more beautiful. But it is only by +revealing the divine that is in us that we may discover the divine in others.</p> + +<p>Needs must one god beckon to another, and no signal is so imperceptible +but they will every one of them respond. It cannot be said too often +that, be the crevice never so small, it will yet suffice for all the +waters of heaven to pour into our soul.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p><p>Every cup is stretched out to the unknown spring, and we are in a +region where none think of aught but beauty.</p> + +<p>If we could ask of an angel what it is that our souls do in the shadow, +I believe the angel would answer, after having looked for many years +perhaps, and seen far more than the things the soul seems to do in the +eyes of men, "They transform into beauty all the little things that are +given to them." Ah! we must admit that the human soul is possessed of +singular courage! Resignedly does it labor, its whole life long, in the +darkness whither most of us relegate it, where it is spoken to by none. +There, never complaining, does it do all that in its power lies, +striving to tear from out the pebbles we fling to it the nucleus of +eternal light that peradventure they contain. And in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> midst of its +work it is ever lying in wait for the moment when it may show, to a +sister who is more tenderly cared for, or who chances to be nearer, the +treasures it has so toilfully amassed.</p> + +<p>But thousands of existences there are that no sister visits; thousands +of existences wherein life has infused such timidity into the soul that +it departs without saying a word, without even once having been able to +deck itself with the humblest jewels of its humble crown....</p> + +<p>And yet, in spite of all, does it watch over everything from out its +invisible heaven. It warns and loves, it admires, attracts, repels. At +every fresh event does it rise to the surface, where it lingers till it +be thrust down again, being looked upon as wearisome and insane. It +wanders to and fro, like <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>Cassandra at the gates of the Atrides. It is +ever giving utterance to words of shadowy truth, but there are none to +listen. When we raise our eyes it yearns for a ray of sun or star, that +it may weave into a thought, or, haply, an impulse, which shall be +unconscious and very pure. And if our eyes bring it nothing, still will +it know how to turn its pitiful disillusion into something ineffable, +that it will conceal even till its death.</p> + +<p>When we love, how eagerly does it drink in the light from behind the +closed door—keen with expectation, it yet wastes not a minute, and the +light that steals through the apertures becomes beauty and truth to the +soul. But if the door open not (and how many lives are there wherein it +does open?) it will go back into its prison, and its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> regret will +perhaps be a loftier verity that shall never be seen, for we are now in +the region of transformations whereof none may speak; and though nothing +born this side of the door can be lost, yet does it never mingle with our life....</p> + +<p>I said just now that the soul changed into beauty the little things we +gave to it. It would even seem, the more we think of it, that the soul +has no other reason for existence, and that all its activity is consumed +in amassing, at the depths of us, a treasure of indescribable beauty. +Might not everything naturally turn into beauty, were we not unceasingly +interrupting the arduous labors of our soul? Does not evil itself become +precious so soon as it has gathered therefrom the deep lying diamond of +repentance? The acts of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>injustice whereof you have been guilty, the +tears you have caused to flow, will not these end too by becoming so +much radiance and love in your soul? Have you ever cast your eyes into +this kingdom of purifying flame that is within you?</p> + +<p>Perhaps a great wrong may have been done you to-day, the act itself +being mean and disheartening, the mode of action of the basest, and +ugliness wrapped you round as your tears fell. But let some years +elapse, then give one look into your soul, and tell me whether, beneath +the recollection of that act, you see not something that is already +purer than thought; an indescribable, unnameable force that has nought +in common with the forces of this world; a mysterious inexhaustible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +spring of the other life, whereat you may drink for the rest of your days.</p> + +<p>And yet will you have rendered no assistance to the untiring queen; +other thoughts will have filled your mind, and it will be without your +knowledge that the act will have been purified in the silence of your +being, and will have flown into the precious waters that lie in the +great reservoir of truth and beauty, which, unlike the shallower +reservoir of true or beautiful thoughts, has an ever unruffled surface, +and remains for all time out of reach of the breath of life.</p> + +<p>Emerson tells us that there is not an act or event in our life but, +sooner or later, casts off its outer shell, and bewilders us by its +sudden flights from the very depths of us, on high into the empyrean. +And this is true to a far<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> greater extent than Emerson had foreseen, for +the further we advance in these regions, the diviner are the spheres we discover.</p> + +<p>We can form no adequate conception of what this silent activity of the +souls that surround us may really mean. Perhaps you have spoken a pure +word to one of your fellows by whom it has not been understood. You look +upon it as lost and dismiss it from your mind. But one day, +peradventure, the word comes up again extraordinarily transformed, and +revealing the unexpected fruit it has borne in the darkness; then +silence once more falls over all. But it matters not; we have learned +that nothing can be lost in the soul, and that even to the very pettiest +there come moments of splendor.</p> + +<p>It is unmistakably borne home to us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> that even the unhappiest and the +most destitute of men have at the depths of their being and in spite of +themselves a treasure of beauty that they cannot despoil. They have but +to acquire the habit of dipping into this treasurer. It suffices not +that beauty should keep solitary festival in life; it has to become a +festival of every day.</p> + +<p>There needs no great effort to be admitted into the ranks of those +"whose eyes no longer behold earth in flower and sky in glory in +infinitesimal fragments, but indeed in sublime masses," and I speak here +of flowers and sky that are purer and more lasting than those that we behold.</p> + +<p>Thousands of channels there are through which the beauty of our soul may +sail even unto our thoughts. Above<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> all is there the wonderful, central +channel of love.</p> + +<p>Is it not in love that are found the purest elements of beauty that we +can offer to the soul?</p> + +<p>Some there are who do thus in beauty love each other. And to love thus +means that, little by little, the sense of ugliness is lost; that one's +eyes are closed to all the littlenesses of life, to all but the +freshness and virginity of the very humblest of souls. Loving thus, we +have no longer even the need to forgive. Loving thus, we can no longer +have anything to conceal, for that the ever-present soul transforms all +things into beauty. It is to behold evil in so far only as it purifies +indulgence, and teaches us no longer to confound the sinner with his +sin. Loving thus do we raise on high within ourselves all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> those about +us who have attained an eminence where failure has become impossible; +heights whence a paltry action has so far to fall that, touching earth, +it is compelled to yield up its diamond soul.</p> + +<p>It is to transform, though all unconsciously, the feeblest intention +that hovers about us into illimitable movement. It is to summon all that +is beautiful in earth, heaven or soul, to the banquet of love.</p> + +<p>Loving thus, we do indeed exist before our fellows as we exist before +God. It means that the least gesture will call forth the presence of the +soul with all its treasure. No longer is there need of death, disaster +or tears for that the soul shall appear; a smile suffices.</p> + +<p>Loving thus, we perceive truth in happiness as profoundly as some of +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> heroes perceived it in the radiance of greatest sorrow. It means +that the beauty that turns into love is undistinguishable from the love +that turns into beauty. It means to be able no longer to tell where the +ray of a star leaves off and the kiss of an ordinary thought begins. It +means to have come so near to God that the angels possess us.</p> + +<p>Loving thus, the same soul will have been so beautified by us all that +it will become, little by little, the "unique angel" mentioned by +Swedenborg. It means that each day will reveal to us a new beauty in +that mysterious angel, and that we shall walk together in a goodness +that shall ever become more and more living, loftier and loftier. For +there exists also a lifeless beauty, made up of the past alone; but the +veritable love renders the past useless, and its <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>approach creates a +boundless future of goodness, without disaster and without tears.</p> + +<p>To love thus is but to free one's soul, and to become as beautiful as +the soul thus freed. "If, in the emotion that this spectacle cannot fail +to awaken in thee," says the great Plotinus, when dealing with kindred +matters—and of all the intellects known to me that of Plotinus draws +the nearest to the divine—"If in the emotion that this spectacle cannot +fail to awaken in thee, thou proclaimest not that it is beautiful; and +if, plunging thine eyes into thyself, thou dost not then feel the charm +of beauty, it is in vain that, thy disposition being such, thou shouldst +seek the intelligible beauty; for thou wouldst seek it only with that +which is ugly and impure. Therefore it is that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> the discourse we hold +here is not addressed to all men. But if thou hast recognized beauty +within thyself, see that thou rise to the recollection of the intelligible beauty."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>THE INVISIBLE GOODNESS</span></h2> + +<p>It is a thing, said to me one evening the sage I had chanced to meet by +the sea shore, whereon the waves were breaking almost noiselessly—it is +a thing that we scarcely notice, that none seem to take into account, +and yet do I conceive it to be one of the forces that safeguard mankind. +In a thousand diverse ways do the gods from whom we spring reveal +themselves within us, but it may well be that this unnoticed secret +goodness, to which sufficiently direct allusion has never yet been made, +is the purest token of their eternal life. Whence it comes we know not. +It is there in its simplicity, smiling on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> threshold of our soul; +and those in whom its smiles lies deepest, or shine forth most +frequently, may make us suffer day and night and they will, yet shall it +be beyond our power to cease to love them....</p> + +<p>It is not of this world, and still are there few agitations of ours in +which it takes not part. It cares not to reveal itself even in look or +tear. Nay, it seeks concealment, for reasons one cannot divine. It is as +though it were afraid to make use of its power. It knows that its most +involuntary movement will cause immortal things to spring to life about +it; and we are miserly with immortal things. Why are we so fearful lest +we exhaust the heaven within us? We dare not act upon the whisper of the +God who inspires us. We are afraid of everything<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> that cannot be +explained by word or gesture; and we shut our eyes to all that we do, +ourselves notwithstanding, in the empire where explanations are vain!</p> + +<p>Whence comes the timidity of the divine in man? For truly might it be +said that the nearer a movement of our soul approaches the divine, so +much the more scrupulously do we conceal it from the eyes of our +brethren. Can it be that man is nothing but a frightened god? Or has the +command been laid upon us that the superior powers must not be betrayed? +Upon all that does not form part of this too visible world there rests +the tender meekness of the little ailing girl, for whom her mother will +not send when strangers come to the house.</p> + +<p>And therefore it is that this secret<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> goodness of ours has never yet +passed through the silent portals of our soul. It lives within us like a +prisoner forbidden to approach the barred window of her cell. But +indeed, what matter though it do not approach? Enough that it be there. +Hide as it may, let it but raise its head, move a link of its chain or +open its hand, and the prison is illumined, the pressure of radiance +from within bursts open the iron barrier, and then, suddenly, there +yawns a gulf between words and beings, a gulf peopled with agitated +angels; silence falls over all: the eyes turn away for a moment and two +souls embrace tearfully on the threshold....</p> + +<p>It is not a thing that comes from this earth of ours, and all +descriptions can be of no avail. They who would understand must have, in +themselves too, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> same point of sensibility. If you have never in +your life felt the power of your invisible goodness, go no further; it +would be useless. But are there really any who have not felt this power, +and have the worst of us never been invisibly good? I know not: of so +many in this world does the aim seem to be the discouragement of the +divine in their soul. And yet there needs but one instant of respite for +the divine to spring up again, and even the wickedest are not +incessantly on their guard; and hence doubtless has it arisen that so +many of the wicked are good, unseen of all, whereas divers saints and +sages are not invisibly good....</p> + +<p>More than once have I been the cause of suffering, he went on, even as +each being is the cause of suffering about him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p><p>I have caused suffering because we are in a world where all is held +together by invisible threads, in a world where none are alone, and +where the gentlest gesture of love or kindliness may so often wound the +innocence by our side!—</p> + +<p>I have caused suffering, too, because there are times when the best and +tenderest are impelled to seek I know not what part of themselves in the +grief of others. For, indeed, there are seeds that only spring up in our +soul beneath the rain of tears shed because of us, and none the less do +these seeds produce good flowers and salutary fruit. What would you? It +is no law of our making, and I know not whether I would dare to love the +man who had made no one weep.</p> + +<p>Frequently, indeed, will the greatest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> suffering be caused by those +whose love is greatest, for a strange, timid, tender cruelty is most +often the anxious sister of love. On all sides does love search for the +proofs of love, and the first proofs—who is not prone to discover them +in the tears of the beloved?</p> + +<p>Even death could not suffice to reassure the lover who dared to give ear +to the unreasoning claims of love; for to the intimate cruelty of love, +the instant of death seems too brief; over beyond death there is yet +room for a sea of doubts, and even in those who die together may +disquiet still linger as they die. Long, slowly falling tears are needed +here. Grief is love's first food, and every love that has not been fed +on a little pure suffering must die like the babe that one had tried to +nourish on the nourishment of a man. Will the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> love inspired by the +woman who always brought the smile to your lips be quite the same as the +love you feel for her who at times called forth your tears? Alas! needs +must love weep, and often indeed is it at the very moment when the sobs +burst forth that love's chains are forged and tempered for life....</p> + +<p>Thus, he continued, I have caused suffering because I loved, and also +have I caused suffering because I did not love—but how great was the +difference in the two cases! In the one the slowly dropping tears of +well-tried love seemed already to know, at the depths of them, that they +were bedewing all that was ineffable in our united souls; in the other +the poor tears knew that they were falling in solitude on a desert. But +it is at those very moments when the soul is all ear—or, haply, all +soul<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>—that I have recognized the might of an invisible goodness that +could offer to the wretched tears of an expiring love the divine +illusions of a love on the eve of birth. Has there never come to you one +of those sorrowful evenings when dejection lay heavy upon your unsmiling +kisses, and it at length dawned upon your soul that it had been +mistaken? With direst difficulty did your words ring forth in the cold +air of the separation that was to be final; you were about to part for +ever, and your almost lifeless hands were outstretched for the farewell +of a departure that should know no return, when suddenly your soul made +an imperceptible movement within itself. On that instant did the soul by +the side of you awake on the summits of its being; something sprang to +life in regions loftier far than the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> love of jaded lovers; and for all +that the bodies might shrink asunder, henceforth would the souls never +forget that for an instant they had beheld each other high above +mountains they had never seen, and that for a second's space they had +been good with a goodness they had never known until that day....</p> + +<p>What can this be, this mysterious movement that I speak of here in +connection with love only, but which may well take place in the smallest +events of life? Is it I know not what sacrifice or inner embrace, is it +the profoundest desire to be soul for a soul, or the consciousness, ever +quickening within us, of the presence of a life that is invisible, but +equal to our own? Is it all that is admirable and sorrowful in the mere +act of living that, at such moments,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> floods our being—is it the aspect +of life, one and indivisible? I know not; but in truth it is then that +we feel that there lurks, somewhere, an unknown force; it is then that +we feel that we are the treasures of an unknown God who loves all, that +not a gesture of this God may pass unperceived, and that we are at +length in the regions of things that do not betray themselves....</p> + +<p>Certain it is that, from the day of our birth to the day of our death, +we never emerge from this clearly defined region, but wander in God like +helpless sleep-walkers, or like the blind who despairingly seek the very +temple in which they do indeed befind themselves. We are there in life, +man against man, soul against soul, and day and night are spent under +arms. We never see each other, we never touch each other. We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> see +nothing but bucklers and helmets, we touch nothing but iron and brass. +But let a tiny circumstance, come from the simpleness of the sky, for +one instant only cause the weapons to fall, are there not always tears +beneath the helmet, childlike smiles behind the buckler, and is not +another verity revealed?</p> + +<p>He thought for a moment, then went on, more sadly: A woman—as I believe +I told you just now—a woman to whom I had caused suffering against my +will—for the most careful of us scatter suffering around them without +their knowledge—a woman to whom I had caused suffering against my will, +revealed to me one evening the sovereign power of this invisible good. +To be good we must needs have suffered; but perhaps it is necessary to +have caused<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> suffering before we can become better. This was brought +home to me that evening. I felt that I had arrived, alone, at that sad +zone of kisses when it seems to us that we are visiting the hovels of +the poor, while she, who had lingered on the road, was still smiling in +the palace of the first days. Love, as men understand it, was dying +between us like a child stricken with a disease come one knows not +whence, a disease that has no pity. We said nothing. It would be +impossible for me to recall what my thoughts were at that earnest +moment. They were doubtless of no significance. I was probably thinking +of the last face I had seen, of the quivering gleam of a lantern at a +deserted street corner; and, nevertheless, everything took place in a +light a thousand times purer, a thousand times higher, than had there +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>intervened all the forces of pity and love which I command in my +thoughts and my heart. We parted, and not a word was spoken, but at one +and the same moment had we understood our inexpressible thought. We know +now that another love had sprung to life, a love that demands not the +words, the little attentions and smiles of ordinary love. We have never +met again. Perhaps centuries will elapse before we ever do meet again.</p> + +<blockquote><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<div>"Much is to learn, much to forget,</div> +<div>Through worlds I shall traverse not a few."</div> +</div></div> + +<p>before we shall again find ourselves in the same movement of the +soul as on that evening: but we can well afford to wait....</p></blockquote> + +<p>And thus, ever since that day, have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> I greeted, in all places, even in +the very bitterest of moments, the beneficent presence of this +marvellous power. He who has but once clearly seen it, shall never again +find it possible to turn away from its face. You will often behold it +smiling in the last retreat of hatred, in the depths of the cruellest +tears. And yet does it not reveal itself to the eyes of the body. Its +nature changes from the moment that it manifests itself by means of an +exterior act; and we are no longer in the truth according to the soul, +but in a kind of falsehood as conceived by man. Goodness and love that +are self-conscious have no influence on the soul, for they have departed +from the kingdoms where they have their dwelling; but, do they only +remain blind, they can soften Destiny itself. I have known more than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +one man who performed every act of kindness and mercy without touching a +single soul; and I have known others; who seemed to live in falsehood +and injustice, yet were no souls driven from them nor did any for an +instant even believe that these men were not good. Nay, more, even those +who do not know you, who are merely told of your acts of goodness and +deeds of love—if you be not good according to the invisible goodness, +these, even, will feel that something is lacking, and they will never be +touched in the depths of their being. One might almost believe that +there exists, somewhere, a place where all is weighed in the presence of +the spirits, or perhaps, out yonder, the other side of the night, a +reservoir of certitudes whither the silent herd of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> souls flock every +morning to slake their thirst.</p> + +<p>Perhaps we do not yet know what the word "to love" means. There are +within us lives in which we love unconsciously. To love thus means more +than to have pity, to make inner sacrifices, to be anxious to help and +give happiness; it is a thing that lies a thousand fathoms deeper, where +our softest, swiftest, strongest words cannot reach it. At moments we +might believe it to be a recollection, furtive, but excessively keen, of +the great primitive unity. There is in this love a force that nothing +can resist. Which of us—and he question himself the side of the light, +from which our gaze is habitually averted—which of us but will find in +himself the recollection of certain strange workings of this force? +Which of us, when by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> side of the most ordinary person perhaps, but +has suddenly become conscious of the advent of something that none had +summoned? Was it the soul, or perhaps life, that had turned within +itself like a sleeper on the point of awakening? I know not; nor did you +know, and no one spoke of it; but you did not separate from each other +as though nothing had happened.</p> + +<p>To love thus is to love according to the soul; and there is no soul that +does not respond to this love. For the soul of man is a guest that has +gone hungry these centuries back, and never has it to be summoned twice +to the nuptial feast.</p> + +<p>The souls of all our brethren are ever hovering about us, craving for a +caress, and only waiting for the signal. But how many beings there are +who all their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> life long have not dared make such a signal!</p> + +<p>It is the disaster of our entire existence that we live thus away from +our soul, and stand in such dread of its slightest movement. Did we but +allow it to smile frankly in its silence and its radiance, we should be +already living an eternal life. We have only to think for an instant how +much it succeeds in accomplishing during those rare moments when we +knock off its chains—for it is our custom to enchain it as though it +were distraught—what it does in love, for instance, for there we do +permit it at times to approach the lattices of external life. And would +it not be in accordance with the primal truth if all men were to feel +that they were face to face with each other, even as the woman feels +with the man she loves?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p><p>This invisible and divine goodness, of which I only speak here because +of its being one of the surest and nearest signs of the unceasing +activity of our soul, this invisible and divine goodness ennobles, in +decisive fashion, all that it has unconsciously touched. Let him who has +a grievance against his fellow, descend into himself and seek out +whether he never has been good in the presence of that fellow.</p> + +<p>For myself, I have never met any one by whose side I have felt my +invisible goodness bestir itself, without he has become, at that very +instant, better than myself. Be good at the depths of you, and you will +discover that those who surround you will be good even to the same depths.</p> + +<p>Nothing responds more infallibly to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> the secret cry of goodness than the +secret cry of goodness that is near.</p> + +<p>While you are actively good in the invisible, all those who approach you +will unconsciously do things that they could not do by the side of any other man.</p> + +<p>Therein lies a force that has no name; a spiritual rivalry that knows no +resistance. It is as though this were the actual place where is the +sensitive spot of our soul; for there are souls that seem to have +forgotten their existence and to have renounced everything that enables +the being to rise; but, once touched here, they all draw themselves +erect; and in the divine plains of the secret goodness, the most humble +of souls cannot endure defeat.</p> + +<p>And yet it is possible that nothing is changing in the life one sees; +but is it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> only that which matters, and is our existence indeed confined +to actions we can take in our hand like stones on the highroad? If you +ask yourself, as we are told we should ask every evening, "what of +immortal have I done to-day?" Is it always on the material side that we +can count, weigh and measure unerringly; is it there that you must begin +your search? It is possible for you to cause extraordinary tears to +flow; it is possible that you may fill a heart with unheard-of +certitudes, and give eternal life unto a soul, and no one shall know of +it, nor shall you even know yourself. It may be that nothing is +changing; it may be that were it put to the test all would crumble, and +that this goodness we speak of would yield to the smallest fear. It +matters not. Something divine has happened;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> and somewhere must our God +have smiled.</p> + +<p>May it not be the supreme aim of life thus to bring to birth the +inexplicable within ourselves; and do we know how much we add to +ourselves when we awake something of the incomprehensible that slumbers +in every corner? Here you have awakened love which will not fall asleep +again. The soul that your soul has regarded, that has wept with you the +holy tears of the solemn joy that none may behold, will bear you no +resentment, not even in the midst of torture. It will not even feel the +need of forgiving. So convinced is it of one knows not what, that +nothing can henceforth dim or efface the smile that it wears within; for +nothing can ever separate two souls which, for an instant, "have been good together."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>SILENCE</span></h2> + +<p>As we advance through life, it is more and more brought home to us that +nothing takes place that is not in accord with some curious, +preconceived design: and of this we never breathe a word, we scarcely +dare to let our minds dwell upon it, but of its existence, somewhere +above our heads, we are absolutely convinced. The most fatuous of men +smiles, at the first encounters, as though he were the accomplice of the +destiny of his brethren. And in this domain, even those who can speak +the most profoundly realise—they, perhaps, more than others—that words +can never express the real, special relationship that exists between two +beings.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p><p>Were I to speak to you at this moment of the gravest things of all—of +love, death or destiny—it is not love, death or destiny that I should +touch; and, my efforts notwithstanding, there would always remain +between us a truth which had not been spoken, which we had not even +thought of speaking; and yet it is this truth only, voiceless though it +has been, which will have lived with us for an instant, and by which we +shall have been wholly absorbed. For that truth, was our truth as +regards death, destiny or love, and it was in silence only that we could +perceive it. And nothing save only the silence will have had any +importance. "My sisters," says a child in the fairy-story, "you have +each of you a secret thought—I wish to know it." We, too, have +something that people wish to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> know, but it is hidden far above the +secret thought—it is our secret silence.</p> + +<p>But all questions are useless. When our spirit is alarmed, its own +agitation becomes a barrier to the second life that lives in this +secret; and, would we know what it is that lies hidden there, we must +cultivate silence among ourselves, for it is then only that for one +instant the eternal flowers unfold their petals, the mysterious flowers +whose form and colour are ever changing in harmony with the soul that is +by their side. As gold and silver are weighed in pure water, so does the +soul test its weight in silence, and the words that we let fall have no +meaning apart from the silence that wraps them round. If I tell someone +that I love him—as I may have told a hundred others—my words will +convey nothing to him; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> the silence which will ensue, if I do indeed +love him, will make clear in what depths lie the roots of my love, and +will in its turn give birth to a conviction, that shall itself be +silent; and in the course of a lifetime, this silence and this +conviction will never again be the same....</p> + +<p>Is it not silence that determines and fixes the savour of love? Deprived +of it, love would lose its eternal essence and perfume. Who has not +known those silent moments which separated the lips to reunite the +souls? It is these that we must ever seek. There is no silence more +docile than the silence of love, and it is indeed the only one that we +may claim for ourselves alone. The other great silences, those of death, +grief or destiny, do not belong to us. They come towards us at their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +own hour, following in the track of events, and those whom they do not +meet need not reproach themselves. But we can all go forth to meet the +silence of love. They lie in wait for us, night and day, at our +threshold, and are no less beautiful than their brothers. And it is +thanks to them that those who have seldom wept may know the life of the +soul almost as intimately as those to whom much grief has come: and +therefore it is that such of us as have loved deeply have learnt many +secrets that are unknown to others: for thousands and thousands of +things quiver in silence on the lips of true friendship and love, that +are not to be found in the silence of other lips, to which friendship +and love are unknown....</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inner Beauty, by Maurice Maeterlinck + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INNER BEAUTY *** + +***** This file should be named 34910-h.htm or 34910-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/9/1/34910/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/34910-h/images/tp.jpg b/34910-h/images/tp.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c244b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/34910-h/images/tp.jpg diff --git a/34910.txt b/34910.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef78c4d --- /dev/null +++ b/34910.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1190 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inner Beauty, by Maurice Maeterlinck + +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 Inner Beauty + +Author: Maurice Maeterlinck + +Release Date: January 10, 2011 [EBook #34910] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INNER BEAUTY *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +_The Inner Beauty_ + +_By_ + +_Maurice Maeterlinck_ + +[Illustration: Decoration] + +_New York_ + +_A. L. Chatterton Company_ + + + + +THE INNER BEAUTY + + +Nothing in the whole world is so athirst for beauty as the soul, nor is +there anything to which beauty clings so readily. + +There is nothing in the world capable of such spontaneous uplifting, of +such speedy ennoblement; nothing that offers more scrupulous obedience +to the pure and noble commands it receives. + +There is nothing in the world that yields deeper submission to the +empire of a thought that is loftier than other thoughts. And on this +earth of ours there are but few souls that can withstand the dominion +of the soul that has suffered itself to become beautiful. + +In all truth might it be said that beauty is the unique aliment of our +soul, for in all places does it search for beauty, and it perishes not +of hunger even in the most degraded of lives. For indeed nothing of +beauty can pass by and be altogether unperceived. Perhaps does it never +pass by save only in our unconsciousness, but its action is no less +puissant in gloom of night than by light of day; the joy it procures may +be less tangible, but other difference there is none. + +Look at the most ordinary of men, at a time when a little beauty has +contrived to steal into their darkness. They have come together, it +matters not where, and for no special reason; but no sooner are they +assembled than their very first thought would seem to be to close the +great doors of life. Yet has each one of them, when alone, more than +once lived in accord with his soul. He has loved perhaps, of a surety he +has suffered. Inevitably must he, too, have heard the sounds that come +from the distant country of Splendor and Terror, and many an evening has +he bowed down in silence before laws that are deeper than the sea. And +yet when these men are assembled it is with the basest of things that +they love to debauch themselves. They have a strange indescribable fear +of beauty, and as their number increases so does this fear become +greater, resembling indeed their dread of silence or of a verity that is +too pure. And so true is this that, were one of them to have done +something heroic in the course of the day, he would ascribe wretched +motives to his conduct, thereby endeavoring to find excuses for it, and +these motives would lie readily to his hand in that lower region where +he and his fellows were assembled. + +And yet listen: a proud and lofty word has been spoken, a word that has +in a measure undammed the springs of life. For one instant has a soul +dared to reveal itself, even such as it is in love and sorrow, such as +it is in face of death and in the solitude that dwells around the stars +of night. Disquiet prevails, on some faces there is astonishment, others +smile. But have you never felt at moments such as those how unanimous is +the fervor wherewith every soul admires, and how unspeakably even the +very feeblest, from the remotest depths of its dungeon, approves the +word it has recognized as akin to itself? For they have all suddenly +sprung to life again in the primitive and normal atmosphere that is +their own; and could you but hearken with angels' ears, I doubt not but +you would hear mightiest applause in that kingdom of amazing radiance +wherein the souls do dwell. + +Do you not think that even the most timid of them would take courage +unto themselves were but similar words to be spoken every evening? Do +you not think that men would live purer lives? And yet though the word +come not again, still will something momentous have happened, that must +leave still more momentous trace behind. Every evening will its sisters +recognize the soul that pronounced the word, and henceforth, be the +conversation never so trivial, its mere presence will, I know not how, +add thereto something of majesty. Whatever else betide, there has been a +change that we cannot determine. No longer will such absolute power be +vested in the baser side of things, and henceforth, even the most +terror-stricken of souls will know that there is somewhere a place of +refuge.... + +Certain it is that the natural and primitive relationship of soul to +soul is a relationship of beauty. For beauty is the only language of our +soul; none other is known to it. It has no other life, it can produce +nothing else, in nothing else can it take interest. And therefore it is +that the most oppressed, nay, the most degraded of souls--if it may +truly be said that a soul can be degraded--immediately hail with +acclamation every thought, every word or deed, that is great and +beautiful. + +Beauty is the only element wherewith the soul is organically connected, +and it has no other standard of judgment. This is brought home to us at +every moment of our life, and is no less evident to the man by whom +beauty may more than once have been denied than to him who is ever +seeking it in his heart. Should a day come when you stand in profoundest +need of another's sympathy, would you go to him who was wont to greet +the passage of beauty with a sneering smile? Would you go to him whose +shake of the head had sullied a generous action or a mere impulse that +was pure? Even though perhaps you had been of those who commended him, +you would none the less, when it was truth that knocked at your door, +turn to the man who had known how to prostrate himself and love. In its +very depths had your soul passed its judgment, and it is the silent and +unerring judgment that will rise to the surface, after thirty years +perhaps, and send you towards a sister who shall be more truly you than +you are yourself, for that she has been nearer to beauty.... There needs +but so little to encourage beauty in our soul; so little to awaken the +slumbering angels; or perhaps is there no need of awakening--it is +enough that we lull them not to sleep. + +It requires more effort to fall, perhaps, than to rise. + +Can we, without putting constraint upon ourselves, confine our thoughts +to everyday things at times when the sea stretches before us, and we are +face to face with the night? And what soul is there but knows that it +is ever confronting the sea, ever in presence of an eternal night? + +Did we but dread beauty less it would come about that nought else in +life would be visible; for in reality it is beauty that underlies +everything, it is beauty alone that exists. There is no soul but is +conscious of this, none that is not in readiness; but where are those +that hide not their beauty? And yet must one of them "begin." Why not +dare to be the one to "begin." The others are all watching eagerly +around us like little children in front of a marvelous place. They press +upon the threshold, whispering to each other and peering through every +crevice, but there is not one who dares put his shoulder to the door. +They are all waiting for some grown-up person to come and fling it +open. But hardly ever does such a one pass by. + +And yet what is needed to become the grown-up person for whom they lie +in wait? So little! The soul is not exacting. A thought that is almost +beautiful--a thought that you speak not, but that you cherish within you +at this moment, will irradiate you as though you were a transparent +vase. They will see it and their greeting to you will be very different +than had you been meditating how best to deceive your brother. + +We are surprised when certain men tell us that they have never come +across real ugliness, that they cannot conceive that a soul can be base. + +Yet need there be no cause for surprise. These men had "begun." They +themselves had been the first to be beautiful, and had therefore +attracted all the beauty that passed by, as a lighthouse attracts the +vessels from the four corners of the horizon. But there are those who +complain of women, for instance, never dreaming that, the first time a +man meets a woman, a single word or thought that denies the beautiful or +profound will be enough to poison for ever his existence in her soul. +"For my part," said a sage to me one day, "I have never come across a +single woman who did not bring to me something that was great." He was +great himself first of all; therein lay his secret. + +There is one thing only that the soul can never forgive; it is to have +been compelled to behold, or share, or pass close to an ugly action, +word, or thought. It cannot forgive, for forgiveness here were but the +denial of itself. + +And yet with the generality of men, ingenuity, strength and skill do but +imply that the soul must first of all be banished from their life, and +that every impulse that lies too deep must be carefully brushed aside. +Even in love do they act thus, and therefore, it is that the woman, who +is so much nearer the truth, can scarcely ever live a moment of the true +life with them. It is as though men dreaded the contact of their soul, +and were anxious to keep its beauty at immeasurable distance. Whereas, +on the contrary, we should endeavor to move in advance of ourselves. + +If at this moment you think or say something that is too beautiful to be +true in you--if you have but endeavored to think or say it to-day, on +the morrow it will be true. We must try to be more beautiful than +ourselves; we shall never distance our soul. + +We can never err when it is question of silent or hidden beauty. +Besides, so long as the spring within us be limpid, it matters but +little whether error there be or not. But do any of us ever dream of +making the slightest unseen effort? And yet in the domain where we are +everything is effective, for that everything is waiting. + +All the doors are unlocked, we have but to push them open, and the +palace is full of manacled queens. + +A single word will very often suffice to clear the mountain of refuse. + +Why not have the courage to meet a base question with a noble answer? Do +you imagine it would pass quite unnoticed or merely arouse surprise? Do +you not think it would be more akin to the discourse that would +naturally be held between two souls? We know not where it may give +encouragement, where freedom. Even he who rejects your word will, in +spite of himself, have taken a step towards the beauty that is within +him. + +Nothing of beauty dies without having purified something, nor can aught +of beauty be lost. Let us not be afraid of sowing it along the road. It +may remain there for weeks or years, but like the diamond it cannot +dissolve, and finally there will pass by some one whom its glitter will +attract; he will pick it up and go his way, rejoicing. Then why keep +back a lofty, beautiful word, for that you doubt whether others will +understand? An instant of higher goodness was impending over you; why +hinder its coming, even though you believe not that those about you will +profit thereby? What if you are among men of the valley, is that +sufficient reason for checking the instinctive movement of your soul +towards the mountain peaks? Does darkness rob deep feeling of its power? + +Have the blind nought but their eyes wherewith to distinguish those who +love them from those who love them not? Can the beauty not exist that is +not understood, and is there not in every man something that does +understand--in regions far beyond what he seems to understand, far +beyond, too, what he believes he understands? "Even to the very +wretchedest of all," said to me one day the loftiest minded creature it +has ever been my happiness to know, "even to the very wretchedest of +all I never have the courage to say anything in reply that is ugly or +mediocre." I have for a long time followed that man's life, and have +seen the inexplicable power he exercised over the most obscure, the most +unapproachable, the blindest, even the most rebellious of souls. For no +tongue can tell the power of a soul that strives to live in an +atmosphere of beauty, and is actively beautiful in itself. And indeed is +it not the quality of this activity that renders life either miserable +or divine? + +If we could but probe to the root of things it might well be discovered +that it is by the strength of some souls that are beautiful that others +are sustained in life. + +Is it not the idea we each form of certain chosen ones that constitutes +the only living, effective morality? But in this idea how much is there +of the soul that is chosen, how much of him who chooses? + +Do not these things blend very mysteriously, and does not this ideal +morality lie infinitely deeper than the morality of the most beautiful +books? A far-reaching influence exists therein whose limits it is indeed +difficult to define, and a fountain of strength whereat we all of us +drink many times a day. Would not any weakness in one of those creatures +whom you thought perfect, and loved in the region of beauty, at once +lessen your confidence in the universal greatness of things, and would +your admiration for them suffer? + +And again, I doubt whether anything in the world can beautify a soul +more spontaneously, more naturally, than the knowledge that somewhere in +its neighborhood there exists a pure and noble being whom it can +unreservedly love. When the soul has veritably drawn near to such a +being, beauty is no longer a lovely, lifeless thing, that one exhibits +to the stranger, for it suddenly takes unto itself an imperious +existence, and its activity becomes so natural as to be henceforth +irresistible. Wherefore you will do well to think it over, for none are +alone, and those who are good must watch. + +Plotinus, in the eighth book of the fifth "Ennead," after speaking of +the beauty that is "intelligible"--_i. e._ divine--concludes thus: "As +regards ourselves, we are beautiful when we belong to ourselves, and +ugly when we lower ourselves to our inferior nature. Also are we +beautiful when we know such knowledge." Bear it in mind, however, that +here we are on the mountains, where not to know oneself means far more +than mere ignorance of what takes place within us at moments of jealousy +or love, fear or envy, happiness or unhappiness. Here not to know +oneself means to be unconscious of all the divine that throbs in man. + +As we wander from the gods within us so does ugliness enwrap us; as we +discover them, so do we become more beautiful. But it is only by +revealing the divine that is in us that we may discover the divine in +others. + +Needs must one god beckon to another, and no signal is so imperceptible +but they will every one of them respond. It cannot be said too often +that, be the crevice never so small, it will yet suffice for all the +waters of heaven to pour into our soul. + +Every cup is stretched out to the unknown spring, and we are in a +region where none think of aught but beauty. + +If we could ask of an angel what it is that our souls do in the shadow, +I believe the angel would answer, after having looked for many years +perhaps, and seen far more than the things the soul seems to do in the +eyes of men, "They transform into beauty all the little things that are +given to them." Ah! we must admit that the human soul is possessed of +singular courage! Resignedly does it labor, its whole life long, in the +darkness whither most of us relegate it, where it is spoken to by none. +There, never complaining, does it do all that in its power lies, +striving to tear from out the pebbles we fling to it the nucleus of +eternal light that peradventure they contain. And in the midst of its +work it is ever lying in wait for the moment when it may show, to a +sister who is more tenderly cared for, or who chances to be nearer, the +treasures it has so toilfully amassed. + +But thousands of existences there are that no sister visits; thousands +of existences wherein life has infused such timidity into the soul that +it departs without saying a word, without even once having been able to +deck itself with the humblest jewels of its humble crown.... + +And yet, in spite of all, does it watch over everything from out its +invisible heaven. It warns and loves, it admires, attracts, repels. At +every fresh event does it rise to the surface, where it lingers till it +be thrust down again, being looked upon as wearisome and insane. It +wanders to and fro, like Cassandra at the gates of the Atrides. It is +ever giving utterance to words of shadowy truth, but there are none to +listen. When we raise our eyes it yearns for a ray of sun or star, that +it may weave into a thought, or, haply, an impulse, which shall be +unconscious and very pure. And if our eyes bring it nothing, still will +it know how to turn its pitiful disillusion into something ineffable, +that it will conceal even till its death. + +When we love, how eagerly does it drink in the light from behind the +closed door--keen with expectation, it yet wastes not a minute, and the +light that steals through the apertures becomes beauty and truth to the +soul. But if the door open not (and how many lives are there wherein it +does open?) it will go back into its prison, and its regret will +perhaps be a loftier verity that shall never be seen, for we are now in +the region of transformations whereof none may speak; and though nothing +born this side of the door can be lost, yet does it never mingle with +our life.... + +I said just now that the soul changed into beauty the little things we +gave to it. It would even seem, the more we think of it, that the soul +has no other reason for existence, and that all its activity is consumed +in amassing, at the depths of us, a treasure of indescribable beauty. +Might not everything naturally turn into beauty, were we not unceasingly +interrupting the arduous labors of our soul? Does not evil itself become +precious so soon as it has gathered therefrom the deep lying diamond of +repentance? The acts of injustice whereof you have been guilty, the +tears you have caused to flow, will not these end too by becoming so +much radiance and love in your soul? Have you ever cast your eyes into +this kingdom of purifying flame that is within you? + +Perhaps a great wrong may have been done you to-day, the act itself +being mean and disheartening, the mode of action of the basest, and +ugliness wrapped you round as your tears fell. But let some years +elapse, then give one look into your soul, and tell me whether, beneath +the recollection of that act, you see not something that is already +purer than thought; an indescribable, unnameable force that has nought +in common with the forces of this world; a mysterious inexhaustible +spring of the other life, whereat you may drink for the rest of your +days. + +And yet will you have rendered no assistance to the untiring queen; +other thoughts will have filled your mind, and it will be without your +knowledge that the act will have been purified in the silence of your +being, and will have flown into the precious waters that lie in the +great reservoir of truth and beauty, which, unlike the shallower +reservoir of true or beautiful thoughts, has an ever unruffled surface, +and remains for all time out of reach of the breath of life. + +Emerson tells us that there is not an act or event in our life but, +sooner or later, casts off its outer shell, and bewilders us by its +sudden flights from the very depths of us, on high into the empyrean. +And this is true to a far greater extent than Emerson had foreseen, for +the further we advance in these regions, the diviner are the spheres we +discover. + +We can form no adequate conception of what this silent activity of the +souls that surround us may really mean. Perhaps you have spoken a pure +word to one of your fellows by whom it has not been understood. You look +upon it as lost and dismiss it from your mind. But one day, +peradventure, the word comes up again extraordinarily transformed, and +revealing the unexpected fruit it has borne in the darkness; then +silence once more falls over all. But it matters not; we have learned +that nothing can be lost in the soul, and that even to the very pettiest +there come moments of splendor. + +It is unmistakably borne home to us that even the unhappiest and the +most destitute of men have at the depths of their being and in spite of +themselves a treasure of beauty that they cannot despoil. They have but +to acquire the habit of dipping into this treasurer. It suffices not +that beauty should keep solitary festival in life; it has to become a +festival of every day. + +There needs no great effort to be admitted into the ranks of those +"whose eyes no longer behold earth in flower and sky in glory in +infinitesimal fragments, but indeed in sublime masses," and I speak here +of flowers and sky that are purer and more lasting than those that we +behold. + +Thousands of channels there are through which the beauty of our soul may +sail even unto our thoughts. Above all is there the wonderful, central +channel of love. + +Is it not in love that are found the purest elements of beauty that we +can offer to the soul? + +Some there are who do thus in beauty love each other. And to love thus +means that, little by little, the sense of ugliness is lost; that one's +eyes are closed to all the littlenesses of life, to all but the +freshness and virginity of the very humblest of souls. Loving thus, we +have no longer even the need to forgive. Loving thus, we can no longer +have anything to conceal, for that the ever-present soul transforms all +things into beauty. It is to behold evil in so far only as it purifies +indulgence, and teaches us no longer to confound the sinner with his +sin. Loving thus do we raise on high within ourselves all those about +us who have attained an eminence where failure has become impossible; +heights whence a paltry action has so far to fall that, touching earth, +it is compelled to yield up its diamond soul. + +It is to transform, though all unconsciously, the feeblest intention +that hovers about us into illimitable movement. It is to summon all that +is beautiful in earth, heaven or soul, to the banquet of love. + +Loving thus, we do indeed exist before our fellows as we exist before +God. It means that the least gesture will call forth the presence of the +soul with all its treasure. No longer is there need of death, disaster +or tears for that the soul shall appear; a smile suffices. + +Loving thus, we perceive truth in happiness as profoundly as some of +the heroes perceived it in the radiance of greatest sorrow. It means +that the beauty that turns into love is undistinguishable from the love +that turns into beauty. It means to be able no longer to tell where the +ray of a star leaves off and the kiss of an ordinary thought begins. It +means to have come so near to God that the angels possess us. + +Loving thus, the same soul will have been so beautified by us all that +it will become, little by little, the "unique angel" mentioned by +Swedenborg. It means that each day will reveal to us a new beauty in +that mysterious angel, and that we shall walk together in a goodness +that shall ever become more and more living, loftier and loftier. For +there exists also a lifeless beauty, made up of the past alone; but the +veritable love renders the past useless, and its approach creates a +boundless future of goodness, without disaster and without tears. + +To love thus is but to free one's soul, and to become as beautiful as +the soul thus freed. "If, in the emotion that this spectacle cannot fail +to awaken in thee," says the great Plotinus, when dealing with kindred +matters--and of all the intellects known to me that of Plotinus draws +the nearest to the divine--"If in the emotion that this spectacle cannot +fail to awaken in thee, thou proclaimest not that it is beautiful; and +if, plunging thine eyes into thyself, thou dost not then feel the charm +of beauty, it is in vain that, thy disposition being such, thou shouldst +seek the intelligible beauty; for thou wouldst seek it only with that +which is ugly and impure. Therefore it is that the discourse we hold +here is not addressed to all men. But if thou hast recognized beauty +within thyself, see that thou rise to the recollection of the +intelligible beauty." + + + + +THE INVISIBLE GOODNESS + + +It is a thing, said to me one evening the sage I had chanced to meet by +the sea shore, whereon the waves were breaking almost noiselessly--it is +a thing that we scarcely notice, that none seem to take into account, +and yet do I conceive it to be one of the forces that safeguard mankind. +In a thousand diverse ways do the gods from whom we spring reveal +themselves within us, but it may well be that this unnoticed secret +goodness, to which sufficiently direct allusion has never yet been made, +is the purest token of their eternal life. Whence it comes we know not. +It is there in its simplicity, smiling on the threshold of our soul; +and those in whom its smiles lies deepest, or shine forth most +frequently, may make us suffer day and night and they will, yet shall it +be beyond our power to cease to love them.... + +It is not of this world, and still are there few agitations of ours in +which it takes not part. It cares not to reveal itself even in look or +tear. Nay, it seeks concealment, for reasons one cannot divine. It is as +though it were afraid to make use of its power. It knows that its most +involuntary movement will cause immortal things to spring to life about +it; and we are miserly with immortal things. Why are we so fearful lest +we exhaust the heaven within us? We dare not act upon the whisper of the +God who inspires us. We are afraid of everything that cannot be +explained by word or gesture; and we shut our eyes to all that we do, +ourselves notwithstanding, in the empire where explanations are vain! + +Whence comes the timidity of the divine in man? For truly might it be +said that the nearer a movement of our soul approaches the divine, so +much the more scrupulously do we conceal it from the eyes of our +brethren. Can it be that man is nothing but a frightened god? Or has the +command been laid upon us that the superior powers must not be betrayed? +Upon all that does not form part of this too visible world there rests +the tender meekness of the little ailing girl, for whom her mother will +not send when strangers come to the house. + +And therefore it is that this secret goodness of ours has never yet +passed through the silent portals of our soul. It lives within us like a +prisoner forbidden to approach the barred window of her cell. But +indeed, what matter though it do not approach? Enough that it be there. +Hide as it may, let it but raise its head, move a link of its chain or +open its hand, and the prison is illumined, the pressure of radiance +from within bursts open the iron barrier, and then, suddenly, there +yawns a gulf between words and beings, a gulf peopled with agitated +angels; silence falls over all: the eyes turn away for a moment and two +souls embrace tearfully on the threshold.... + +It is not a thing that comes from this earth of ours, and all +descriptions can be of no avail. They who would understand must have, in +themselves too, the same point of sensibility. If you have never in +your life felt the power of your invisible goodness, go no further; it +would be useless. But are there really any who have not felt this power, +and have the worst of us never been invisibly good? I know not: of so +many in this world does the aim seem to be the discouragement of the +divine in their soul. And yet there needs but one instant of respite for +the divine to spring up again, and even the wickedest are not +incessantly on their guard; and hence doubtless has it arisen that so +many of the wicked are good, unseen of all, whereas divers saints and +sages are not invisibly good.... + +More than once have I been the cause of suffering, he went on, even as +each being is the cause of suffering about him. + +I have caused suffering because we are in a world where all is held +together by invisible threads, in a world where none are alone, and +where the gentlest gesture of love or kindliness may so often wound the +innocence by our side!-- + +I have caused suffering, too, because there are times when the best and +tenderest are impelled to seek I know not what part of themselves in the +grief of others. For, indeed, there are seeds that only spring up in our +soul beneath the rain of tears shed because of us, and none the less do +these seeds produce good flowers and salutary fruit. What would you? It +is no law of our making, and I know not whether I would dare to love the +man who had made no one weep. + +Frequently, indeed, will the greatest suffering be caused by those +whose love is greatest, for a strange, timid, tender cruelty is most +often the anxious sister of love. On all sides does love search for the +proofs of love, and the first proofs--who is not prone to discover them +in the tears of the beloved? + +Even death could not suffice to reassure the lover who dared to give ear +to the unreasoning claims of love; for to the intimate cruelty of love, +the instant of death seems too brief; over beyond death there is yet +room for a sea of doubts, and even in those who die together may +disquiet still linger as they die. Long, slowly falling tears are needed +here. Grief is love's first food, and every love that has not been fed +on a little pure suffering must die like the babe that one had tried to +nourish on the nourishment of a man. Will the love inspired by the +woman who always brought the smile to your lips be quite the same as the +love you feel for her who at times called forth your tears? Alas! needs +must love weep, and often indeed is it at the very moment when the sobs +burst forth that love's chains are forged and tempered for life.... + +Thus, he continued, I have caused suffering because I loved, and also +have I caused suffering because I did not love--but how great was the +difference in the two cases! In the one the slowly dropping tears of +well-tried love seemed already to know, at the depths of them, that they +were bedewing all that was ineffable in our united souls; in the other +the poor tears knew that they were falling in solitude on a desert. But +it is at those very moments when the soul is all ear--or, haply, all +soul--that I have recognized the might of an invisible goodness that +could offer to the wretched tears of an expiring love the divine +illusions of a love on the eve of birth. Has there never come to you one +of those sorrowful evenings when dejection lay heavy upon your unsmiling +kisses, and it at length dawned upon your soul that it had been +mistaken? With direst difficulty did your words ring forth in the cold +air of the separation that was to be final; you were about to part for +ever, and your almost lifeless hands were outstretched for the farewell +of a departure that should know no return, when suddenly your soul made +an imperceptible movement within itself. On that instant did the soul by +the side of you awake on the summits of its being; something sprang to +life in regions loftier far than the love of jaded lovers; and for all +that the bodies might shrink asunder, henceforth would the souls never +forget that for an instant they had beheld each other high above +mountains they had never seen, and that for a second's space they had +been good with a goodness they had never known until that day.... + +What can this be, this mysterious movement that I speak of here in +connection with love only, but which may well take place in the smallest +events of life? Is it I know not what sacrifice or inner embrace, is it +the profoundest desire to be soul for a soul, or the consciousness, ever +quickening within us, of the presence of a life that is invisible, but +equal to our own? Is it all that is admirable and sorrowful in the mere +act of living that, at such moments, floods our being--is it the aspect +of life, one and indivisible? I know not; but in truth it is then that +we feel that there lurks, somewhere, an unknown force; it is then that +we feel that we are the treasures of an unknown God who loves all, that +not a gesture of this God may pass unperceived, and that we are at +length in the regions of things that do not betray themselves.... + +Certain it is that, from the day of our birth to the day of our death, +we never emerge from this clearly defined region, but wander in God like +helpless sleep-walkers, or like the blind who despairingly seek the very +temple in which they do indeed befind themselves. We are there in life, +man against man, soul against soul, and day and night are spent under +arms. We never see each other, we never touch each other. We see +nothing but bucklers and helmets, we touch nothing but iron and brass. +But let a tiny circumstance, come from the simpleness of the sky, for +one instant only cause the weapons to fall, are there not always tears +beneath the helmet, childlike smiles behind the buckler, and is not +another verity revealed? + +He thought for a moment, then went on, more sadly: A woman--as I believe +I told you just now--a woman to whom I had caused suffering against my +will--for the most careful of us scatter suffering around them without +their knowledge--a woman to whom I had caused suffering against my will, +revealed to me one evening the sovereign power of this invisible good. +To be good we must needs have suffered; but perhaps it is necessary to +have caused suffering before we can become better. This was brought +home to me that evening. I felt that I had arrived, alone, at that sad +zone of kisses when it seems to us that we are visiting the hovels of +the poor, while she, who had lingered on the road, was still smiling in +the palace of the first days. Love, as men understand it, was dying +between us like a child stricken with a disease come one knows not +whence, a disease that has no pity. We said nothing. It would be +impossible for me to recall what my thoughts were at that earnest +moment. They were doubtless of no significance. I was probably thinking +of the last face I had seen, of the quivering gleam of a lantern at a +deserted street corner; and, nevertheless, everything took place in a +light a thousand times purer, a thousand times higher, than had there +intervened all the forces of pity and love which I command in my +thoughts and my heart. We parted, and not a word was spoken, but at one +and the same moment had we understood our inexpressible thought. We know +now that another love had sprung to life, a love that demands not the +words, the little attentions and smiles of ordinary love. We have never +met again. Perhaps centuries will elapse before we ever do meet again. + + + "Much is to learn, much to forget, + Through worlds I shall traverse not a few." + + before we shall again find ourselves in the same movement of the + soul as on that evening: but we can well afford to wait.... + + +And thus, ever since that day, have I greeted, in all places, even in +the very bitterest of moments, the beneficent presence of this +marvellous power. He who has but once clearly seen it, shall never again +find it possible to turn away from its face. You will often behold it +smiling in the last retreat of hatred, in the depths of the cruellest +tears. And yet does it not reveal itself to the eyes of the body. Its +nature changes from the moment that it manifests itself by means of an +exterior act; and we are no longer in the truth according to the soul, +but in a kind of falsehood as conceived by man. Goodness and love that +are self-conscious have no influence on the soul, for they have departed +from the kingdoms where they have their dwelling; but, do they only +remain blind, they can soften Destiny itself. I have known more than +one man who performed every act of kindness and mercy without touching a +single soul; and I have known others; who seemed to live in falsehood +and injustice, yet were no souls driven from them nor did any for an +instant even believe that these men were not good. Nay, more, even those +who do not know you, who are merely told of your acts of goodness and +deeds of love--if you be not good according to the invisible goodness, +these, even, will feel that something is lacking, and they will never be +touched in the depths of their being. One might almost believe that +there exists, somewhere, a place where all is weighed in the presence of +the spirits, or perhaps, out yonder, the other side of the night, a +reservoir of certitudes whither the silent herd of souls flock every +morning to slake their thirst. + +Perhaps we do not yet know what the word "to love" means. There are +within us lives in which we love unconsciously. To love thus means more +than to have pity, to make inner sacrifices, to be anxious to help and +give happiness; it is a thing that lies a thousand fathoms deeper, where +our softest, swiftest, strongest words cannot reach it. At moments we +might believe it to be a recollection, furtive, but excessively keen, of +the great primitive unity. There is in this love a force that nothing +can resist. Which of us--and he question himself the side of the light, +from which our gaze is habitually averted--which of us but will find in +himself the recollection of certain strange workings of this force? +Which of us, when by the side of the most ordinary person perhaps, but +has suddenly become conscious of the advent of something that none had +summoned? Was it the soul, or perhaps life, that had turned within +itself like a sleeper on the point of awakening? I know not; nor did you +know, and no one spoke of it; but you did not separate from each other +as though nothing had happened. + +To love thus is to love according to the soul; and there is no soul that +does not respond to this love. For the soul of man is a guest that has +gone hungry these centuries back, and never has it to be summoned twice +to the nuptial feast. + +The souls of all our brethren are ever hovering about us, craving for a +caress, and only waiting for the signal. But how many beings there are +who all their life long have not dared make such a signal! + +It is the disaster of our entire existence that we live thus away from +our soul, and stand in such dread of its slightest movement. Did we but +allow it to smile frankly in its silence and its radiance, we should be +already living an eternal life. We have only to think for an instant how +much it succeeds in accomplishing during those rare moments when we +knock off its chains--for it is our custom to enchain it as though it +were distraught--what it does in love, for instance, for there we do +permit it at times to approach the lattices of external life. And would +it not be in accordance with the primal truth if all men were to feel +that they were face to face with each other, even as the woman feels +with the man she loves? + +This invisible and divine goodness, of which I only speak here because +of its being one of the surest and nearest signs of the unceasing +activity of our soul, this invisible and divine goodness ennobles, in +decisive fashion, all that it has unconsciously touched. Let him who has +a grievance against his fellow, descend into himself and seek out +whether he never has been good in the presence of that fellow. + +For myself, I have never met any one by whose side I have felt my +invisible goodness bestir itself, without he has become, at that very +instant, better than myself. Be good at the depths of you, and you will +discover that those who surround you will be good even to the same +depths. + +Nothing responds more infallibly to the secret cry of goodness than the +secret cry of goodness that is near. + +While you are actively good in the invisible, all those who approach you +will unconsciously do things that they could not do by the side of any +other man. + +Therein lies a force that has no name; a spiritual rivalry that knows no +resistance. It is as though this were the actual place where is the +sensitive spot of our soul; for there are souls that seem to have +forgotten their existence and to have renounced everything that enables +the being to rise; but, once touched here, they all draw themselves +erect; and in the divine plains of the secret goodness, the most humble +of souls cannot endure defeat. + +And yet it is possible that nothing is changing in the life one sees; +but is it only that which matters, and is our existence indeed confined +to actions we can take in our hand like stones on the highroad? If you +ask yourself, as we are told we should ask every evening, "what of +immortal have I done to-day?" Is it always on the material side that we +can count, weigh and measure unerringly; is it there that you must begin +your search? It is possible for you to cause extraordinary tears to +flow; it is possible that you may fill a heart with unheard-of +certitudes, and give eternal life unto a soul, and no one shall know of +it, nor shall you even know yourself. It may be that nothing is +changing; it may be that were it put to the test all would crumble, and +that this goodness we speak of would yield to the smallest fear. It +matters not. Something divine has happened; and somewhere must our God +have smiled. + +May it not be the supreme aim of life thus to bring to birth the +inexplicable within ourselves; and do we know how much we add to +ourselves when we awake something of the incomprehensible that slumbers +in every corner? Here you have awakened love which will not fall asleep +again. The soul that your soul has regarded, that has wept with you the +holy tears of the solemn joy that none may behold, will bear you no +resentment, not even in the midst of torture. It will not even feel the +need of forgiving. So convinced is it of one knows not what, that +nothing can henceforth dim or efface the smile that it wears within; for +nothing can ever separate two souls which, for an instant, "have been +good together." + + + + +SILENCE + + +As we advance through life, it is more and more brought home to us that +nothing takes place that is not in accord with some curious, +preconceived design: and of this we never breathe a word, we scarcely +dare to let our minds dwell upon it, but of its existence, somewhere +above our heads, we are absolutely convinced. The most fatuous of men +smiles, at the first encounters, as though he were the accomplice of the +destiny of his brethren. And in this domain, even those who can speak +the most profoundly realise--they, perhaps, more than others--that words +can never express the real, special relationship that exists between two +beings. + +Were I to speak to you at this moment of the gravest things of all--of +love, death or destiny--it is not love, death or destiny that I should +touch; and, my efforts notwithstanding, there would always remain +between us a truth which had not been spoken, which we had not even +thought of speaking; and yet it is this truth only, voiceless though it +has been, which will have lived with us for an instant, and by which we +shall have been wholly absorbed. For that truth, was our truth as +regards death, destiny or love, and it was in silence only that we could +perceive it. And nothing save only the silence will have had any +importance. "My sisters," says a child in the fairy-story, "you have +each of you a secret thought--I wish to know it." We, too, have +something that people wish to know, but it is hidden far above the +secret thought--it is our secret silence. + +But all questions are useless. When our spirit is alarmed, its own +agitation becomes a barrier to the second life that lives in this +secret; and, would we know what it is that lies hidden there, we must +cultivate silence among ourselves, for it is then only that for one +instant the eternal flowers unfold their petals, the mysterious flowers +whose form and colour are ever changing in harmony with the soul that is +by their side. As gold and silver are weighed in pure water, so does the +soul test its weight in silence, and the words that we let fall have no +meaning apart from the silence that wraps them round. If I tell someone +that I love him--as I may have told a hundred others--my words will +convey nothing to him; but the silence which will ensue, if I do indeed +love him, will make clear in what depths lie the roots of my love, and +will in its turn give birth to a conviction, that shall itself be +silent; and in the course of a lifetime, this silence and this +conviction will never again be the same.... + +Is it not silence that determines and fixes the savour of love? Deprived +of it, love would lose its eternal essence and perfume. Who has not +known those silent moments which separated the lips to reunite the +souls? It is these that we must ever seek. There is no silence more +docile than the silence of love, and it is indeed the only one that we +may claim for ourselves alone. The other great silences, those of death, +grief or destiny, do not belong to us. They come towards us at their +own hour, following in the track of events, and those whom they do not +meet need not reproach themselves. But we can all go forth to meet the +silence of love. They lie in wait for us, night and day, at our +threshold, and are no less beautiful than their brothers. And it is +thanks to them that those who have seldom wept may know the life of the +soul almost as intimately as those to whom much grief has come: and +therefore it is that such of us as have loved deeply have learnt many +secrets that are unknown to others: for thousands and thousands of +things quiver in silence on the lips of true friendship and love, that +are not to be found in the silence of other lips, to which friendship +and love are unknown.... + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inner Beauty, by Maurice Maeterlinck + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INNER BEAUTY *** + +***** This file should be named 34910.txt or 34910.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/9/1/34910/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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