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diff --git a/old/imgrv10.txt b/old/imgrv10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b392a09 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/imgrv10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7995 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Imaginations and Reveries +by (A.E.) George William Russell +#3 in our series by (A.E.) George William Russell + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Imaginations and Reveries + +Author: (A.E.) George William Russell + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8105] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on June 15, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IMAGINATIONS AND REVERIES *** + + + + +Produced by Jake Jaqua + + + + + +IMAGINATIONS AND REVERIES + --by AE [George William Russell] + + + + + +PREFACE + + +The publishers of this book thought that a volume of articles and +tales written by me during the past twenty-five years would have +interest enough to justify publication, and asked me to make a +selection. I have not been able to make up a book with only one +theme. My temperament would only allow me to be happy when I was +working at art. My conscience would not let me have peace unless +I worked with other Irishmen at the reconstruction of Irish life. +Birth in Ireland gave me a bias towards Irish nationalism, while +the spirit which inhabits my body told me the politics of eternity +ought to be my only concern, and that all other races equally with +my own were children of the Great King. To aid in movements one +must be orthodox. My desire to help prompted agreement, while my +intellect was always heretical. I had written out of every mood, +and could not retain any mood for long. If I advocated a national +ideal I felt immediately I could make an equal plea for more +cosmopolitan and universal ideas. I have observed my intuitions +wherever they drew me, for I felt that the Light within us knows +better than any other the need and the way. So I have no book on +one theme, and the only unity which connects what is here written +is a common origin. The reader must try a balance between the +contraries which exist here as they exist in us all, as they +exist and are harmonized in that multitudinous meditation which +is the universe.--A.E. + + + +PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION + + +To this edition four essays have been added. Two of these, "Thoughts +for a Convention" and "The New Nation," made some little stir when +they first appeared. Ireland since then has passed away from the +mood which made it possible to consider the reconciliations suggested, +and has set its heart on more fundamental changes, and these essays +have only interest as marking a moment of transition in national +life before it took a new road leading to another destiny. + + + +CONTENTS + +NATIONALITY OR COSMOPOLITANISM +STANDISH O'GRADY +THE DRAMATIC TREATMENT OF LEGEND +THE CHARACTER OF HEROIC LITERATURE +A POET OF SHADOWS +THE BOYHOOD OF A POET +THE POETRY OF JAMES STEPHENS +A NOTE ON SEUMAS O'SULLIVAN +ART AND LITERATURE +AN ARTIST OF GARLIC IRELAND +TWO IRISH ARTISTS +"ULSTER" +IDEALS OF THE NEW RURAL SOCIETY +THOUGHTS FOR A CONVENTION +THE NEW NATION +THE SPIRITUAL CONFLICT +ON AN IRISH HILL +RELIGION AND LOVE +THE RENEWAL OF YOUTH +THE HERO IN MAN +THE MEDITATION OF ANANDA +THE MIDNIGHT BLOSSOM +THE CHILDHOOD OF APOLLO +THE MASK OF APOLLO +The CAVE OF LILITH +THE STORY OF A STAR +THE DREAM OF ANGUS OGE +DEIRDRE + + + + + +NATIONALITY OR COSMOPOLITANISM + +As one of those who believe that the literature of a country is +for ever creating a new soul among its people, I do not like to +think that literature with us must follow an inexorable law of +sequence, and gain a spiritual character only after the bodily +passions have grown weary and exhausted themselves. In the essay +called The Autumn of the Body, Mr. Yeats seems to indicate such a +sequence. Yet, whether the art of any of the writers of the +decadence does really express spiritual things is open to doubt. +The mood in which their work is conceived, a distempered emotion, +through which no new joy quivers, seems too often to tell rather +of exhausted vitality than of the ecstasy of a new life. However +much, too, their art refines itself, choosing, ever rarer and more +exquisite forms of expression, underneath it all an intuition +seems to disclose only the old wolfish lust, hiding itself beneath +the golden fleece of the spirit. It is not the spirit breaking +through corruption, but the life of the senses longing to shine +with the light which makes saintly things beautiful: and it would +put on the jeweled raiment of seraphim, retaining still a heart +of clay smitten through and through with the unappeasable desire +of the flesh: so Rossetti's women, who have around them all the +circumstance of poetry and romantic beauty, seem through their +sucked-in lips to express a thirst which could be allayed in no +spiritual paradise. Art in the decadence in our time might be +symbolized as a crimson figure undergoing a dark crucifixion: the +hosts of light are overcoming it, and it is dying filled with +anguish and despair at a beauty it cannot attain. All these +strange emotions have a profound psychological interest. I do not +think because a spiritual flaw can be urged against a certain phase +of life that it should remain unexpressed. The psychic maladies +which attack all races when their civilization grows old must needs +be understood to be dealt with: and they cannot be understood +without being revealed in literature or art. But in Ireland we +are not yet sick with this sickness. As psychology it concerns +only the curious. Our intellectual life is in suspense. The +national spirit seems to be making a last effort to assert itself +in literature and to overcome cosmopolitan influences and the art +of writers who express a purely personal feeling. It is true that +nationality may express itself in many ways: it may not be at all +evident in the subject matter, but it may be very evident in the +sentiment. But a literature loosely held together by some emotional +characteristics common to the writers, however great it may be, +does not fulfill the purpose of a literature or art created by a +number of men who have a common aim in building up an overwhelming +ideal--who create, in a sense, a soul for their country, and who +have a common pride in the achievement of all. The world has not +seen this since the great antique civilizations of Egypt and Greece +passed away. We cannot imagine an Egyptian artist daring enough +to set aside the majestic attainment of many centuries. An Egyptian +boy as he grew up must have been overawed by the national tradition, +and have felt that it was not to be set aside: it was beyond his +individual rivalry. The soul of Egypt incarnated in him, and, +using its immemorial language and its mysterious lines, the efforts +of the least workman who decorated a tomb seem to have been directed +by the same hand that carved the Sphinx. This adherence to a +traditional form is true of Greece, though to a less extent. Some +little Tanagra terra-cottas might have been fashioned by Phidias, +and in literature Ulysses and Agamemnon were not the heroes of one +epic, but appeared endlessly in epic and drama. Since the Greek +civilization no European nation has had an intellectual literature +which was genuinely national. In the present century, leaving +aside a few things in outward circumstance, there is little to +distinguish the work of the best English writers or artists from +that of their Continental contemporaries. Milliais, Leighton, +Rossetti, Turner--how different from each other, and yet they might +have painted the same pictures as born Frenchmen, and it would not +have excited any great surprise as a marked divergence from French art. +The cosmopolitan spirit, whether for good or for evil, is hastily +obliterating all distinctions. What is distinctly national in these +countries is less valuable than the immense wealth of universal ideas; +and the writers who use this wealth appeal to no narrow circle: the +foremost writers, the Tolstois and Ibsens, are conscious of addressing +a European audience. + +If nationality is to justify itself in the face of all this, it +must be because the country which preserves its individuality does +so with the profound conviction that its peculiar ideal is nobler +than that which the cosmopolitan spirit suggests--that this ideal +is so precious to it that its loss would be as the loss of the soul, +and that it could not be realized without an aloofness from, if +not an actual indifference to, the ideals which are spreading so +rapidly over Europe. Is it possible for any nationality to make +such a defense of its isolation? If not, let us read Goethe, Balzac, +Tolstoi, men so much greater than any we can show, try to absorb +their universal wisdom, and no longer confine ourselves to local +traditions. But nationality was never so strong in Ireland as at +the present time. It is beginning to be felt, less as a political +movement than as a spiritual force. It seems to be gathering itself +together, joining men who were hostile before, in a new intellectual +fellowship: and if all these could unite on fundamentals, it would +be possible in a generation to create a national Ideal in Ireland, +or rather to let that spirit incarnate fully which began among the +ancient peoples, which has haunted the hearts and whispered a dim +revelation of itself through the lips of the bards and peasant +story tellers. + +Every Irishman forms some vague ideal of his country, born from +his reading of history, or from contemporary politics, or from +imaginative intuition; and this Ireland in the mind it is, not +the actual Ireland, which kindles his enthusiasm. For this he +works and makes sacrifices; but because it has never had any +philosophical definition or a supremely beautiful statement in +literature which gathered all aspirations about it, the ideal +remains vague. This passionate love cannot explain itself; it +cannot make another understand its devotion. To reveal Ireland +in clear and beautiful light, to create the Ireland in the heart, +is the province of a national literature. Other arts would add +to this ideal hereafter, and social life and politics must in the +end be in harmony. We are yet before our dawn, in a period +comparable to Egypt before the first of her solemn temples +constrained its people to an equal mystery, or to Greece before +the first perfect statue had fixed an ideal of beauty which mothers +dreamed of to mould their yet unborn children. We can see, however, +as the ideal of Ireland grows from mind to mind, it tends to assume +the character of a sacred land. The Dark Rosaleen of Mangan +expresses an almost religious adoration, and to a later writer it +seems to be nigher to the spiritual beauty than other lands: + + And still the thoughts of Ireland brood + Upon her holy quietude. + +The faculty of abstracting from the land their eyes beheld another +Ireland through which they wandered in dream, has always been a +characteristic of the Celtic poets. This inner Ireland which the +visionary eye saw was the Tirnanoge, the Country of Immortal Youth, +for they peopled it only with the young and beautiful. It was +the Land of the Living Heart, a tender name which showed that it +had become dearer than the heart of woman, and overtopped all +other dreams as the last hope of the spirit, the bosom where it +would rest after it had passed from the fading shelter of the world. +And sure a strange and beautiful land this Ireland is, with a +mystic beauty which closes the eyes of the body as in sleep, and +opens the eyes of the spirit as in dreams and never a poet has +lain on our hillsides but gentle, stately figures, with hearts +shining like the sun, move through his dreams, over radiant grasses, +in an enchanted world of their own: and it has become alive through +every haunted rath and wood and mountain and lake, so that we can +hardly think of it otherwise than as the shadow of the thought of God. +The last Irish poet who has appeared shows the spiritual qualities +of the first, when he writes of the gray rivers in their "enraptured" +wanderings, and when he sees in the jeweled bow which arches +the heavens-- + + The Lord's seven spirits that shine through the rain + +This mystical view of nature, peculiar to but one English poet, +Wordsworth is a national characteristic; and much in the creation +of the Ireland in the mind is already done, and only needs retelling +by the new writers. More important, however, for the literature +we are imagining as an offset to the cosmopolitan ideal would be +the creation of heroic figures, types, whether legendary or taken +from history, and enlarged to epic proportions by our writers, who +would use them in common, as Cuculain, Fionn, Ossian, and Oscar +were used by the generations of poets who have left us the bardic +history of Ireland, wherein one would write of the battle fury of +a hero, and another of a moment when his fire would turn to +gentleness, and another of his love for some beauty of his time, +and yet another tell how the rivalry of a spiritual beauty made +him tire of love; and so from iteration and persistent dwelling +on a few heroes, their imaginative images found echoes in life, +and other heroes arose, continuing their tradition of chivalry. + +That such types are of the highest importance, and have the most +ennobling influence on a country, cannot be denied. It was this +idea led Whitman to exploit himself as the typical American. He +felt that what he termed a "stock personality" was needed to +elevate and harmonize the incongruous human elements in the States. +English literature has always been more sympathetic with actual +beings than with ideal types, and cannot help us much. A man who +loves Dickens, for example, may grow to have a great tolerance for +the grotesque characters which are the outcome of the social order +in England, but he will not be assisted in the conception of a +higher humanity: and this is true of very many English writers +who lack a fundamental philosophy, and are content to take man as +he seems to be for the moment, rather than as the pilgrim of eternity-- +as one who is flesh today but who may hereafter grow divine, and +who may shine at last like the stars of the morning, triumphant among +the sons of God. + +Mr. Standish O'Grady, in his notable epic of Cuculain, was in our +time the first to treat the Celtic tradition worthily. He has +contributed one hero who awaits equal comrades, if indeed the tales +of the Red Branch do not absorb the thoughts of many imaginative +writers, and Cuculain remain the typical hero of the Gael, becoming +to every boy who reads the story a revelation of what his own spirit is. + +I know John Eglinton, one of our most thoughtful writers, our first +cosmopolitan, thinks that "these ancient legends refuse to be taken +out of their old environment." But I believe that the tales which +have been preserved for a hundred generations in the heart of the +people must have had their power, because they had in them a core +of eternal truth. Truth is not a thing of today or tomorrow. +Beauty, heroism, and spirituality do not change like fashion, being +the reflection of an unchanging spirit. The face of faces which +looks at us through so many shifting shadows has never altered the +form of its perfection since the face of man, made after its image, +first looked back on its original: + + For these red lips, with all their mournful pride, + Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam, + And Usna's children died. + +These dreams, antiquities, traditions, once actual, living, and +historical, have passed from the world of sense into the world of +memory and thought: and time, it seems to me, has not taken away +from their power, nor made them more remote from sympathy, but has +rather purified them by removing them from earth to heaven: from +things which the eye can see and the ear can hear they have become +what the heart ponders over, and are so much nearer, more familiar, +more suitable for literary use than the day they were begotten. They +have now the character of symbol, and, as symbol, are more potent +than history. They have crept through veil after veil of the manifold +nature of man; and now each dream, heroism, or beauty has laid itself +nigh the divine power it represents, the suggestion of which made it +first beloved: and they are ready for the use of the spirit, a +speech of which every word has a significance beyond itself, and +Deirdre is, like Helen, a symbol of eternal beauty; and Cuculain +represents as much as Prometheus the heroic spirit, the +redeemer in man. + +In so far as these ancient traditions live in the memory of man, +they are contemporary to us as much as electrical science: for the +images which time brings now to our senses, before they can be used +in literature, have to enter into exactly the same world of human +imagination as the Celtic traditions live in. And their fitness +for literary use is not there determined by their freshness but by +their power of suggestion. Modern literature, where it is really +literature and not book-making, grows more subjective year after year, +and the mind has a wider range over time than the physical nature has. +Many things live in it--empires which have never crumbled, beauty +which has never perished, love whose fires have never waned: and, +in this formidable competition for use in the artist's mind, today +stands only its chance with a thousand days. To question the +historical accuracy of the use of such memories is not a matter +which can be rightly raised. The question is--do they express lofty +things to the soul? If they do they have justified themselves. + +I have written at some length on the two paths which lie before us, +for we have arrived at a parting of ways. One path leads, and has +already led many Irishmen, to obliterate all nationality from their +work. The other path winds upward to a mountain-top of our own, +which may be in the future the Mecca to which many worshippers will +turn. To remain where we are as a people, indifferent to literature, +to art, to ideas, wasting the precious gift of public spirit we +possess so abundantly in the sordid political rivalries, without +practical or ideal ends, is to justify those who have chosen the +other path, and followed another star than ours. I do not wish +any one to infer from this a contempt for those who, for the last +hundred years, have guided public opinion in Ireland. If they +failed in one respect, it was out of a passionate sympathy for +wrongs of which many are memories, thanks to them, and to them +is due the creation of a force which may be turned in other +directions, not without a memory of those pale sleepers to whom +we may turn in thought, placing-- + + A kiss of fire on the dim brow of failure, + A crown upon her uncrowned head. + +1899 + + + + + +STANDISH O'GRADY + + +In this age we read so much that we lay too great a burden on the +imagination. It is unable to create images which are the spiritual +equivalent of the words on the printed page, and reading becomes +for too many an occupation of the eye rather than of the mind. How +rarely, out of the multitude of volumes a man reads in his lifetime, +can he remember where or when he read any particular book, or with +any vividness recall the mood it evoked in him. When I close my +eyes, and brood in memory over the books which most profoundly +affected me, I find none excited my imagination more than Standish +O'Grady's epical narrative of Cuculain. Whitman said of his Leaves +of Grass: "Camerado, this is no book. Who touches this touches +a man," and O'Grady might have boasted of his Bardic History of +Ireland, written with his whole being, that there was more than a +man in it, there was the soul of a people, its noblest and most +exalted life symbolized in the story of one heroic character. + +With reference to Ireland, I was at the time I read like many others +who were bereaved of the history of their race. I was as a man who, +through some accident, had lost memory of his past, Who could recall +no more than a few months of new life, and could not say to what +songs his cradle had been rocked, what mother had nursed him, who +were the playmates of childhood, or by what woods and streams he +had wandered. When I read O'Grady I was as such a man who suddenly +feels ancient memories rushing at him, and knows he was born in a +royal house, that he had mixed with the mighty of heaven and earth +and had the very noblest for his companions. It was the memory +of race which rose up within me as I read, and I felt exalted as +one who learns he is among the children of kings. That is what +O'Grady did for me and for others who were my contemporaries, and +I welcome the reprints, of his tales in the hope that he will go +on magically recreating for generations yet unborn the ancestral +life of their race in Ireland. For many centuries the youth of +Ireland as it grew up was made aware of the life of bygone ages, +and there were always some who remade themselves in the heroic mould +before they passed on. The sentiment engendered by the Gaelic +literature was an arcane presence, though unconscious of itself, +in those who for the past hundred years had learned another speech. +In O'Grady's writings the submerged river of national culture rose +up again, a shining torrent, and I realized as I bathed in that +stream, that the greatest spiritual evil one nation could inflict +on another was to cut off from it the story of the national soul. +For not all music can be played upon any instrument, and human +nature for most of us is like a harp on which can be rendered the +music written for the harp but nor that written for the violin. +The harp strings quiver for the harp-player alone, and he who can +utter his passion through the violin is silent before an unfamiliar +instrument. That is why the Irish have rarely been deeply stirred +by English literature, though it is one of the great literatures +of the world. Our history was different and the evolutionary +product was a peculiarity of character, and the strings of our +being vibrate most in ecstasy when the music evokes ancestral moods +or embodies emotions akin to these. I am not going to argue the +comparative worth of the Gaelic and English tradition. All that +I can say is that the traditions of our own country move us more +than the traditions of any other. Even if there was not essential +greatness in them we would love them for the same reasons which +bring back so many exiles to revisit the haunts of childhood. But +there was essential greatness in that neglected bardic literature +which O'Grady was the first to reveal in a noble manner. He had +the spirit of an ancient epic poet. He is a comrade of Homer, +his birth delayed in time perhaps that he might renew for a +sophisticated people the elemental simplicity and hardihood men +had when the world was young and manhood was prized more than any +of its parts, more than thought or beauty or feeling. He has +created for us, or rediscovered, one figure which looms in the +imagination as a high comrade of Hector, Achilles, Ulysses, Rama +or Yudisthira, as great in spirit as any. Who could extol enough +his Cuculain, that incarnation of Gaelic chivalry, the fire and +gentleness, the beauty and heroic ardour or the imaginative splendor +of the episodes in his retelling of the ancient story. There are +writers who bewitch you by a magical use of words whose lines +glitter like jewels, whose effects are gained by an elaborate art +and who deal with the subtlest emotions. Others again are simple +as an Egyptian image, and yet are more impressive, and you remember +them less for the sentence than for a grandiose effect. They are +not so much concerned with the art of words as with the creation +of great images informed with magnificence of spirit. They are +not lesser artists but greater, for there is a greater art in the +simplification of form in the statue of Memnon than there is in +the intricate detail of a bronze by Benvenuto Cellini. Standish +O'Grady had in his best moments that epic wholeness and simplicity, +and the figure of Cuculain amid his companions of the Red Branch +which he discovered and refashioned for us is, I think, the greatest +spiritual gift any Irishman for centuries has given to Ireland. + +I know it will be said that this is a scientific age, the world +is so full of necessitous life that it is waste of time for young +Ireland to brood upon tales of legendary heroes, who fought with +enchanters, who harnessed wild fairy horses to magic chariots and +who talked with the ancient gods, and that it would be much better +for youth to be scientific and practical. Do not believe it, dear +Irish boy, dear Irish girl, I know as well as any the economic +needs of our people. They must not be overlooked, but keep still +in your hearts some desires which might enter Paradise. Keep in +your souls some images of magnificence so that hereafter the halls +of heaven and the divine folk may not seem altogether alien to +the spirit. These legends have passed the test of generations +for century after century, and they were treasured and passed on +to those who followed, and that was because there was something +in them akin to the immortal spirit. Humanity cannot carry with +it through time the memory of all its deeds and imaginations, and +it burdens itself only in a new era with what was highest among +the imaginations of the ancestors. What is essentially noble is +never out of date. The figures carved by Pheidias for the Parthenon +still shine by the side of the greatest modern sculpture. There +has been no evolution of the human form to a greater beauty than +the ancient Greek saw, and the forms they carved are not strange +to us, and if this is true of the outward form it is true of the +indwelling spirit. What is essentially noble is contemporary with +all that is splendid today, and until the mass of men are equal +in spirit the great figures of the past will affect us less as +memories than as prophecies of the Golden Age to which youth is +ever hurrying in its heart. + +O'Grady in his stories of the Red Branch rescued from the past what +was contemporary to the best in us today, and he was equal in his +gifts as a writer to the greatest of his bardic predecessors in +Ireland. His sentences are charged with a heroic energy, and, +when he is telling a great tale, their rise and fall is like the +flashing and falling of the bright sword of some great battle, or +like the onset and withdrawal of Atlantic surges. He can at need +be beautifully tender and quiet. Who that has read his tale of +the young Finn and the Seven Ancients will forget the weeping of +Finn over the kindness of the famine-stricken old men, and their +wonder at his weeping, and the self-forgetful pathos of their +meditation unconscious that it was their own sacrifice called +forth the tears of Finn. "Youth," they said, "has many sorrows +that cold age cannot comprehend." + +There are critics repelled by the abounding energy in O'Grady's +sentences. It is easy to point to faults due to excess and +abundance, but how rare in literature is that heroic energy and +power. There is something arcane and elemental in it, a quality +that the most careful stylist cannot attain, however he uses the +file, however subtle he is. O'Grady has noticed this power in +the ancient bards and we find it in his own writing. It ran all +through the Bardic History, the Critical and Philosophical History, +and through the political books, The Tory Democracy and All Ireland. +There is this imaginative energy in the tale of Cuculain, in all +its episodes, the slaying of the hound, the capture of the Liath +Macha, the hunting of the enchanted deer, the capture of the Wild +swans, the fight at the ford, and the awakening of the Red Branch. +In the later tale of Red Hugh which, he calls The Flight of the +Eagle there is the same quality of power joined with a shining +simplicity in the narrative which rises into a poetic ecstasy in +that wonderful chapter where Red Hugh, escaping from the Pale, +rides through the Mountain Gates of Ulster and sees high above +him Sheve Gullion, a mountain of the Gods, the birth-place of +legend "more mythic than Avernus"; and O'Grady evokes for us and +his hero the legendary past and the great hill seems to be like +Mount Sinai, thronged with immortals, and it lives and speaks to +the fugitive boy, "the last great secular champion of the Gael," +and inspires him for the fulfillment of his destiny. We might say +of Red Hugh, and indeed of all O'Grady's heroes, that they are the +spiritual progeny of Cuculain. From Red Hugh down to the boys who +have such enchanting adventures in Lost on Du Corrig and The Chain +of Gold they have all a natural and hardy purity of mind, a beautiful +simplicity of character, and one can imagine them all in an hour +of need, being faithful to any trust like the darling of the Red +Branch. These shining lads never grew up amid books. They are +as much children of nature as the Lucy of Wordsworth's poetry. It +might be said of them as the poet of the Kalevala sang of himself: +"Winds and waters my instructors." + +These were O'Grady's own earliest companions, and no man can find +better comrades than earth, water, air and sun. I imagine O'Grady's +own youth was not so very different from the youth of Red Hugh +before his captivity; that he lived on the wild and rocky western +coast, that he rowed in coracles, explored the caves, spoke much +with hardy natural people, fishermen and workers on the land, +primitive folk, simple in speech but with that fundamental depth +men have who are much in nature in companionship with the elements, +the elder brothers of humanity. It must have been out of such a +boyhood and such intimacies with natural and unsophisticated people +that there came to him the understanding of the heroes of the Red +Branch. How pallid, beside the ruddy chivalry who pass, huge and +fleet and bright, through O'Grady's pages, appear Tennyson's +bloodless Knights of the Round Table, fabricated in the study to +be read in the drawing room, as anemic as Burne Jones' lifeless +men in armour. The heroes of ancient Irish legend reincarnated +in the mind of a man who could breathe into them the fire of life, +caught from sun and wind, their ancient deities, and send them +forth to the world to do greater deeds, to act through many men +and speak through many voices. What sorcery was in the Irish mind +that it has taken so many years to win but a little recognition +for this splendid spirit; and that others who came after him, who +diluted the pure fiery wine of romance he gave us with literary water, +should be as well known or more widely read. For my own, part I +can only point back to him and say whatever is Irish in me he kindled +to life, and I am humble when I read his epic tale, feeling how +much greater a thing it is for the soul of a writer to have been +the habitation of a demi-god than to have had the subtlest intellections. + +We praise the man who rushes into a burning mansion and brings out +its greatest treasure. So ought we to praise this man who rescued +from the perishing Gaelic tradition its darling hero and restored +him to us, and I think now that Cuculain will not perish, and he +will be invisibly present at many a council of youth, and he will +be the daring which lifts the will beyond itself and fires it for +great causes, and he will be also the courtesy which shall overcome +the enemy that nothing else may overcome. + +I am sure that Standish O'Grady would rather I should speak of his +work and its bearing on the spiritual life of Ireland, than about +himself, and, because I think so, in this reverie I have followed +no set plan but have let my thoughts run as they will. But I would +not have any to think that this man was only a writer, or that he +could have had the heroes of the past for spiritual companions, +without himself being inspired to fight dragons and wizardry. I +have sometimes regretted that contemporary politics drew O'Grady +away from the work he began so greatly. I have said to myself he +might have given us an Oscar, a Diarmuid or a Caolte, an equal +comrade to Cuculain, but he could not, being lit up by the spirit +of his hero, he merely the bard and not the fighter, and no man +in Ireland intervened in the affairs of his country with a superior +nobility of aim. He was the last champion of the Irish aristocracy, +and still more the voice of conscience for them, and he spoke to +them of their duty to the nation as one might imagine some fearless +prophet speaking to a council of degenerate princes. When the +aristocracy failed Ireland he bade them farewell, and wrote the +epitaph of their class in words whose scorn we almost forget +because of their sounding melody and beauty. He turned his mind +to the problems of democracy and more especially of those workers +who are trapped in the city, and he pointed out for them the way +of escape and how they might renew life in the green fields close +to Earth, their ancient mother and nurse. He used too exalted a +language for those to whom he spoke to understand, and it might +seem that all these vehement appeals had failed but that we know +that what is fine never really fails. When a man is in advance +of his age, a generation, unborn when he speaks, is born in due +time and finds in him its inspiration. O'Grady may have failed +in his appeal to the aristocracy of his own time but he may yet +create an aristocracy of character and intellect in Ireland. The +political and economic writings will remain to uplift and inspire +and to remind us that the man who wrote the stories of heroes had +a bravery of his own and a wisdom of his own. I owe so much to +Standish O'Grady that I would like to leave it on record that it +was he made me conscious and proud of my country, and recalled to +my mind, that might have wandered otherwise over too wide and +vague a field of thought, to think of the earth under my feet and +the children of our common mother. There hangs in the Municipal +Gallery of Dublin the portrait of a man with melancholy eyes, and +scrawled on the canvas is the subject of his bitter brooding: "'The +Lost Land." I hope that O'Grady will find before he goes back to +Tir na noge that Ireland has found again through him what seemed +lost for ever, the law of its own being, and its memories which go +back to the beginning of the world. + + + + + +THE DRAMATIC TREATMENT OF LEGEND + + +"The Red Branch ought not to be staged. . . . That literature ought +not to be produced for popular consumption for the edification of +the crowd. . . . I say to you drop this thing at your, peril. . . . +You may succeed in degrading Irish ideals, and banishing the soul +of the land. . . . Leave the heroic cycles alone, and don't bring +them down to the crowd..." (Standish O'Grady in All Ireland Review). + +Years ago, in the adventurous youth of his mind, Mr. O'Grady found +the Gaelic tradition like a neglected antique dun with the doors +barred, and there was little or no egress. Listening, he heard +from within the hum of an immense chivalry, and he opened the doors +and the wild riders went forth to work their will. Now he would +recall them. But it is in vain. The wild riders have gone forth, +and their labors in the human mind are only beginning. They will +do their deeds over again, and now they will act through many men +and speak through many voices. The spirit of Cuculain will stand +at many a lonely place in the heart, and he will win as of old +against multitudes. The children of Turann will start afresh +still eager to take up and renew their cyclic labors, and they +will gain, not for themselves, the Apples of the Tree of Life, +and the Spear of the Will, and the Fleece which is the immortal +body. All the heroes and demigods returning will have a wider +field than Erin for their deeds, and they will not grow weary +warning upon things that die but will be fighters in the spirit +against immortal powers, and, as before, the acts will be sometimes +noble and sometimes base. They cannot be stayed from their deeds, +for they are still in the strength of a youth which is ever renewing +itself. Not for all the wrong which may be done should they be +restrained. Mr. O'Grady would now have the tales kept from the +crowd to be the poetic luxury of a few. Yet would we, for all the +martyrs who perished in the fires of the Middle Ages, counsel the +placing of the Gospels on the list of books to be read only by a +few esoteric worshippers? + +The literature which should be unpublished is that which holds the +secret of the magical powers. The legends of Ireland are not of +this kind. They have no special message to the aristocrat more +than to the man of the people. The men who made the literature +of Ireland were by no means nobly born, and it was the bards who +placed the heroes, each in his rank, and crowned them for after +ages, and gave them their famous names. They have placed on the +brow of others a crown which belonged to themselves, and all the +heroic literature of the world was made by the sacrifice of the +nameless kings of men who have given a sceptre to others they never +wielded while living, and who bestowed the powers, of beauty and +pity on women who perhaps had never uplifted a heart in their day, +and who now sway us from the grave with a grace only imagined in +the dreaming soul of the poet. Mr. O'Grady has been the bardic +champion of the ancient Irish aristocracy. He has thrown on them +the sunrise colors of his own brilliant spirit, and now would +restrain others from the use of their names lest a new kingship +should be established over them, and another law than that of his +own will, lest the poets of the democracy looking back on the +heroes of the past should overcome them with the ideas of a later +day, and the Atticottic nature find a loftier spirit in those who +felt the unendurable pride of the Fianna and rose against it. Well, +it is only natural he should try to protect the children of his +thought, but they need no later word from him. If writers of a +less noble mind than his deal with these things they will not rob +his heroes of a single power to uplift or inspire. In Greece, +after Eschylus and his stupendous deities, came Sophocles, who +restrained them with a calm wisdom, and Euripides, who made them +human, but still the mysterious Orphic deities remain and stir +us when reading the earlier page. Mr. O'Grady would not have the +Red Branch cycle cast in dramatic form or given to the people. +They are too great to be staged; and he quotes, mistaking the +gigantic for the heroic, a story of Cuculain reeling round Ireland +on his fairy steed the Liath Macha. This may be phantasy or +extravagance, but it is not heroism. Cuculain is often heroic, +but it is a quality of the soul and not of the body; it is shown +by his tears over Ferdiad, in his gentleness to women. A more +grandiose and heroic figure than Cuculain was seen on the Athenian +stage; and no one will say that the Titan Prometheus, chained on +the rock in his age-long suffering for men, is not a nobler figure +than Cuculain in any aspect in which he appears to us in the tales. +Divine traditions, the like of which were listened to with awe by +the Athenians, should not be too lofty for our Christian people, +whose morals Mr. O'Grady, here hardly candid, professes to be +anxious about. What is great in literature is a greatness springing +out of the human heart. Though we fall short today of the bodily +stature of the giants of the prime, the spirit still remains and +can express an equal greatness. I can well understand how a man +of our own day, by the enlargement of his spirit, and the passion +and sincerity of his speech, could express the greatness of the past. +The drama in its mystical beginning was the vehicle through which +divine ideas, which are beyond the sphere even of heroic life and +passion, were expressed; and if the later Irish writers fail of +such greatness, it is not for that reason that the soul of Ireland +will depart. I can hardly believe Mr. O'Grady to be serious when +he fears that many forbidden subjects will be themes for dramatic art, +that Maeve with her many husbands will walk the stage, and the lusts +of an earlier age be revived to please the lusts of today. The +danger of art is not in its subjects, but in the attitude of the +artist's mind. The nobler influences of art arise, not because +heroes are the theme, but because of noble treatment and the intuition +which perceives the inflexible working out of great moral laws. + +The abysses of human nature may well be sounded if the plummet be +dropped by a spirit from the heights. The lust which leads on to +death may be a terrible thing to contemplate, but in the event +there is consolation; and the eye of faith can see even in the +very exultation of corruption how God the Regenerator is working +His will, leading man onward to his destiny of inevitable beauty. +Mr. O'Grady in his youth had the epic imagination, and I think few +people realize how great and heroic that inspiration was; but the +net that is spread for Leviathan will not capture all the creatures +of the deep, and neither epic nor romance will manifest fully the +power of the mythical ancestors of the modern Gael who now seek +incarnation anew in the minds of their children. Men too often +forget, in this age of printed books, that literature is, after all, +only an ineffectual record of speech. The literary man has gone +into strange byways through long contemplation of books, and he +writes with elaboration what could never be spoken, and he loses +that power of the bards on whom tongues of fire had descended, who +were masters of the magic of utterance, whose thoughts were not +meant to be silently absorbed from the lifeless page. For there +never can be, while man lives in a body, a greater means of +expression for him than the voice of man affords, and no instrument +of music will ever rival in power the flowing of the music of the +spheres through his lips. In all its tones, from the chanting of +the magi which compelled the elements, to those gentle voices which +guide the dying into peace, there is a power which will never be +stricken from tympan or harp, for in all speech there is life, and +with the greatest speech the deep tones of another Voice may mingle. +Has not the Lord spoken through His prophets? And man, when he has +returned to himself, and to the knowledge of himself, may find a +greater power in his voice than those which he has painfully harnessed +to perform his will, in steamship or railway. It is through drama +alone that the writer can summon, even if vicariously, so great a +power to his aid; and it is possible we yet may hear on the stage, +not merely the mimicry of human speech, but the old forgotten music +which was heard in the duns of great warriors to bow low their faces +in their hands. Dear O'Grady, if we do not succeed it is not for +you to blame us, for our aims are at least as high as your own. + +1902 + + + + + +THE CHARACTER OF HEROIC LITERATURE + + +Lady Gregory, a fairy godmother, has given to Young Ireland the +gift of her Cuchulain of Muirthemne, which should be henceforward +the book of its dream. I do not doubt but there will be a great +change in the next generation, for the character of many children +will have grown to maturity brooding over the memories of heroes +who were themselves half children, half demigods. Though the hero +tales will have their greatest power over the young, no one mind +could measure their depth. They seem simple and primitive, yet +they draw us strangely aside from life, and the emotions they awaken +are not simple but complex. Here are twenty tales, and they are +so alike in imaginative character that they seem all to have poured +from one mind; and to these twenty we could add a hundred others, +all endlessly fertile in difference of incident, but all seeming +to own the same imaginative creator. It was so for many centuries, +and then the maker of the song seems to have grown weary, and +distinct voices not overladen with the tradition of the ages were +heard; and today every one wanders in a path of his own, finding +or losing the way, the truth, and the life of art in the free play +of his desires. There was something more to cause this later period +of diverse utterance than the interruption of other races and the +claims of the world upon us. Surely the ancient Egyptian met in +Memphis or Thebes as many strangers as we did, but he wept on through +many dynasties carving the same face of mystery and rarely altering +the peculiar forms which were his inheritance from the craftsmen +of a thousand years before. It was not the introduction of something +new, but the loss of something which finally vexed the calm of the +Sphinx and marred the Phidian beauty which in Greece was a long +dream for many generations. It was not because the Dane or Norman +came and dwelt among us that the signature of the Sidhe was withdrawn +from the Gaelic mind. I do not know how to express this loss +otherwise than by saying we appear to have fallen away from our +archetype. We find in all the early stories the presence of one +being who may be the genius of our land if that old idea of race +divinities be a true one. A strange similitude unites all the +characters. We infer an interior identity. The same spirit flashes +out in hostile clans, and then Cuculain kisses Ferdiad. They all +confidently appeal to; it in each other. Maeve flying after the +great battle can ask a gift from her conqueror and obtains it. Fand +and Emer dispute who shall make the last sacrifice of love and give +the beloved to a rival. The conflicts seem half in play or in dream, +and we do not know when an awakening of love will disarm the foes. +In spite of the bloodshed the heroes seem like children who fight +steadily through a mock battle, but the night will see these children +at peace, and they will dream with arms around each other in the +same cot. No literature ever had a more beautiful heart of childhood +in it. The bards could hate no one consistently. If they took +away the heroic chivalry from Conchobar in one tale they restored +it to him in another. They have the confident trust--and expectation +of goodness that children have, who may have suffered punishment, +but who come later on and smile on the chastiser. It is this quality +which gives the tales their extraordinary charm. I know no other +literature which has it to the same degree. I do not like to +speculate on the absence of this spirit in our later literature, +which was written under other influences. It cannot be because +there was a less spiritual life in the apostles than in the bards. +We cannot compare Cuculain, the most complete ideal of Gaelic +chivalry, with that supreme figure whose coming to the world was +the effacement of whole pantheons of divinities, and yet it is +true that since the thoughts of men were turned from the old ideals +our literature has been filled with a less noble life. I think a +due may be found in the withdrawal of thought from nature, the +great mother who, is the giver of all life, and without whose life +ideals become inoperative and listless dwellers in the heart. The +eyes of the ancient Gael were fixed in wonder on the rocks and hills, +and the waste places of the earth were piled with phantasmal palaces +where the Sidhe sat on their thrones. Everywhere there was life, +and as they saw so they felt. To conceive of nature in any way, +as beautiful and living, as friendly or hostile, is to receive from +her in like measure out of her fullness. With whatever face we +approach the mirror a similar face approaches ours. "Let him +approach it, saying, 'This is the Mighty,' he becomes mighty," says +an ancient scripture, teaching us that as our aspiration is so will +be our inspiration and power. Out of this comradeship with earth +there came a commingling of natures, and we do not know when we +read who are the Sidhe and who are human. The great energies are +all in the heroes. They bound to themselves, like the Talkend, +the strength of the fire, the brightness of the sun, and the +swiftness of the wind. They seem truly the earth-born. The waves +respond to their deeds; the elemental creatures respond and there +are clashing echoes and allies innumerable, and armies in the air +continuing their battles illimitably beyond: a proud race, who +felt with bursting heart the heavens were watching them, who defied +their gods and exiled them to have free play for their own deeds. +A very different humanity indeed from those who have come to walk +the earth with humility, who are afraid of heaven and its rulers, +and whose dread is the greatest of all sins, for in it is a denial +of their own divinity. Surely the sight heroes is more welcome +to the King, in whose heaven are sworded seraphim, than the bowed +knees and the spirits who make themselves as worms in His sight. +In the symbolic expression of our spiritual life the eagle has +become a dove brooding peace. Oh, that it might rebecome the eagle +and take to the upper airs! + +A generosity and greatness of spirit are in the heroes of the Red +Branch, and out of their strength grows a bloom of beauty never +fully revealed until Lady Gregory compiled these tales. As we +read our eyes are dazzled by strange graces of color flowing over the +pages: everywhere there is mystery and magnificence. Procession's +pass by in Druid ritual, kings and queens, and harpers who look like +kings. When the wind passes over them and stirs their garments a +sweetness comes over the teller of the tale, who felt that delight +in draperies blown over shapely forms which is the inspiration of +the Winged Victory and many Greek marbles. The bards will not have +the hands of those proud people touch anything which is not beautiful. +"It was a beautiful chessboard they had, all of white bronze, and +the chessmen of gold and silver, and a candlestick of precious stones +lighting it." The wasting of time has spared us a few things to +show that this rare and intricate metal work was not a myth, and +we are forced by an inexorable logic to accept as mainly true the +narration of the pride, the beauty, the generosity, and the large +lovable character of the ancient heroes. We may come to realize +that, losing their Druid vision of a more shining world mingling +with this, we have lost the vision of that life into the likeness +of which it is the true labor of the spirit to transform this life. +For the Tirnanoge is that Garden where, in the mind of the Lord, +the flowers and trees blossomed before they grew in the fields, +where man lived in the Golden Age before the outer darkness of the +earth was built and he was outcast from Paradise. There is no true +art or literature which has not some image of the Golden Life lurking +within it, and through the archaic rudeness of these legends the +light shines as sunlight through the hoary branches of ancient oaks. +Lady Gregory has done her work, as compiler with a judgment which +could hardly be too much praised, and she has translated the stories +into an idiom which is a reflection of the original Gaelic and is +full of charm. We are indebted to her for this labor as much as +to any of those who sang to sweeten Ireland's wrong. + +1902 + + + + + +A POET OF SHADOWS + + +When I was asked to write "anything" about Yeats, our Irish poet, +my thoughts were like rambling flocks that have no shepherd, and +without guidance my rambling thoughts have run anywhere. + +I confess I have feared to enter or linger too long in the many- +colored land of Druid twilights and tunes. A beauty not our own, +more perfect than we can ourselves conceive, is a danger to the +imagination. I am too often tempted to wander with Usheen in +Timanoge and to forget my own heart and its more rarely accorded +vision of truth. I know I like my own heart best, but I never +look into the world of my friend without feeling that my region +lies in the temperate zone and is near the Arctic circle; the +flowers grow more rarely and are paler, and the struggle for +existence is keener. Southward and in the warm west are the Happy +Isles among the Shadowy Waters. The pearly phantoms are dancing +there with blown hair amid cloud tail daffodils. They have known +nothing but beauty, or at the most a beautiful unhappiness. Everything +there moves in procession or according to ritual, and the agony of +grief, it is felt, must be concealed. There are no faces blurred with +tears there; some traditional gesture signifying sorrow is all that +is allowed. I have looked with longing eyes into this world. It is +Ildathach, the Many-Colored Land, but not the Land of the Living Heart. +That island where the multitudinous beatings of many hearts became +one is yet unvisited; but the isle of our poet is the more beautiful +of all the isles the mystic voyagers have found during the thousands +of years literature has recorded in Ireland. What wonder that many wish +to follow him, and already other voices are singing amid its twilights. + +They will make and unmake. They will discover new wonders; and +will perhaps make commonplace some beauty which but for repetition +would have seemed rare. I would that no one but the first discoverer +should enter Ildathach, or at least report of it. No voyage to the +new world, however memorable, will hold us like the voyage of Columbus. +I sigh sometimes thinking on the light dominion dreams have over the +heart. We cannot hold a dream for long, and that early joy of the +poet in his new-found world has passed. It has seemed to him too +luxuriant. He seeks for something more, and has tried to make its +tropical tangle orthodox; and the glimmering waters and winds are +no longer beautiful natural presences, but have become symbolic +voices and preach obscurely some doctrine of their power to quench +the light in the soul or to fan it to a brighter flame. + +I like their old voiceless motion and their natural wandering best, +and would rather roam in the bee-loud glade than under the boughs +of beryl and chrysoberyl, where I am put to school to learn the +significance of every jewel. I like that natural infinity which +a prodigal beauty suggests more than that revealed in esoteric +hieroglyphs, even though the writing be in precious stones. +Sometimes I wonder whether that insatiable desire of the mind for +something more than it has yet attained, which blows the perfume +from every flower, and plucks the flower from every tree, and hews +down every tree in the valley until it goes forth gnawing itself +in a last hunger, does not threaten all the cloudy turrets of the +Poet's soul. But whatever end or transformation, or unveiling may +happen, that which creates beauty must have beauty in its essence, +and the soul must cast off many vestures before it comes to itself. +We, all of us, poets, artists, and musicians, who work in shadows, +must sometime begin to work in substance, and why should we grieve +if one labor ends and another begins? I am interested more in life +than in the shadows of life, and as Ildathach grows fainter I await +eagerly the revelation of the real nature of one who has built so +many mansions in the heavens. The poet has concealed himself under +the embroidered cloths and has moved in secretness, and only at +rare times, as when he says, "A pity beyond all telling is hid +in the heart of love," do we find a love which is not the love of +the Sidhe; and more rarely still do recognizable human figures, +like the Old Pensioner or Moll Magee, meet us. All the rest are +from another world and are survivals of the proud and golden races +who move with the old stateliness and an added sorrow for the dark +age which breaks in upon their loveliness. They do not war upon +the new age, but build up about themselves in imagination the +ancient beauty, and love with a love a little colored by the passion +of the darkness from which they could not escape. They are the sole +inheritors of many traditions, and have now come to the end of the +ways, and so are unhappy. We know why they are unhappy, but not +the cause of a strange merriment which sometimes they feel, unless +it be that beauty within itself has a joy in its own rhythmic being. +They are changing, too, as the winds and waters have changed. They +are not like Usheen, seekers and romantic wanderers, but have each +found some mood in themselves where all quest ceases; they utter +oracles, and even in the swaying of a hand or the dropping of hair +there is less suggestion of individual action than of a divinity +living within them, shaping an elaborate beauty in dream for his +own delight, and for no other end than the delight in his dream. +Other poets have written of Wisdom overshadowing man and speaking +through his lips, or a Will working within the human will, but I +think in this poetry we find for the first time the revelation of +the Spirit as the weaver of beauty. Hence it comes that little +hitherto unnoticed motions are adored: + + You need but lift a pearl-pale hand, + And bind up your long hair and sigh; + And all men's hearts must burn and beat. + +This woman is less the beloved than the priestess of beauty who +reveals the divinity, not as the inspired prophetesses filled with +the Holy Breath did in the ancient mysteries, but in casual gestures +and in a waving of her white arms, in the stillness of her eyes, +in her hair which trembles like a faery flood of unloosed shadowy +light over pale breasts, and in many glimmering motions so beautiful +that it is at once seen whose footfall it is we hear, and that the +place where she stands is holy ground. This, it seems to me, is +what is essential in this poetry, what is peculiar and individual +in it--the revelation of great mysteries in unnoticed things; and +as not a sparrow may fall unconsidered by Him, so even in the +swaying of a human hand His sceptre may have dominion over the +heart and His paradise be entered in the lifting of an eyelid. + +1902 + + + + + +THE BOYHOOD OF A POET + + +When I was a boy I knew another who has since become famous and +who has now written Reveries over Childhood and Youth. I searched +the pages to meet the boy I knew and could not find him. He has +told us what he saw and what he remembered of others, but from +himself he seems to have passed away and remembers himself not. +The boy I knew was darkly beautiful to look on, fiery yet playful +and full of lovely and elfin fancies. He was swift of response, +indeed over-generous to the fancies of others because a nature so +charged with beauty could not but emit beauty at every challenge. +Even so water, however ugly the object we cast upon it, can but +break out in a foam of beauty and a bewilderment of lovely curves. + +Our fancies were in reality nothing to him but the affinities which +by the slightest similitude evoked out of the infinitely richer +being the prodigality of beautiful images with which it was endowed +and made itself conscious of itself. I have often thought how +strange it is that artist and poet have never yet revealed themselves +to us except in verse and painting, that there was among them no +psychologist who could turn back upon himself to search for the law +of his own being, who could tell us how his brain first became +illuminated with images, and who tried to track the inspiration to +its secret fount and the images to their ancestral beauty. Few of +the psychologists who have written about imagination were endowed +with it themselves: and here is a poet, the most imaginative of +his generation, who has written about his youth and has told us +only about external circumstances and nothing about himself, nothing +about that flowering of strange beauty in poetry in him where the +Gaelic imagination that had sunk underground when the Gaelic speech +had died, rose up again transfiguring an alien language until that +new poetry became like the record of another mystic voyager to the +Heaven-world of our ancestors. But poet and artist are rarely self- +conscious of the processes of their own minds. They deliver their +message with exultation but they find nothing worth recording in +the descent upon them of the fiery tongues. So our poet has told +us little about himself but much about circumstance, and I recall +in his pages the Dublin of thirty years ago, and note how faithful +the memory of eye and ear are, and how forgetful the heart is of +its own fancies. Is nature behind this distaste for intimate self- +analysis in the poet? Are our own emanations poisonous to us if +we do not rapidly clear ourselves of them? Is it best to forget +ourselves and hurry away once the deed is done or the end is attained +to some remoter valley in the Golden World and look for a new beauty +if we would continue to create beauty? + +I know how readily our poet forgets his own songs. I once quoted +to him some early verses of his own as comment on something he +had said. He asked eagerly "Who wrote that?" and when I said "Do +you not remember?" he petulantly waved the poem aside for he had +forsaken his past. Again at a later period he told me his early +verses sometimes aroused him to a frenzy of dislike. Of the feelings +which beset the young poet of genius little or nothing is revealed +in this Reverie. Yet what would we not give for a book which would +tell how beauty beset that youth in his walks about Dublin and Sligo; +how the sensitive response to color, form, music and tradition began, +how he came to recognize the moods which incarnated in him as immortal +moods. Perhaps it is too much to expect from the creative imagination +that it shall also be capable of exact and subtle analysis. In this +work I walk down the streets of Dublin I walked with Yeats over +thirty years ago. I mix with the people who then were living in +the city, O'Leary, Taylor, Dowden, Hughes and the rest; but the +poet himself does not walk with me. It is a new voice speaking of +the past of others, pointing out the doorways entered by dead youth. +The new voice has distinction and dignity of its own, and we are +grateful for this history, others more so than myself, because most +of what is written therein I knew already, and I wanted a secret +which is not revealed. I wanted to know more about the working of +the imagination which planted the little snow-white feet in the +sally garden, and which heard the kettle on the hob sing peace into +the breast, and was intimate with twilight and the creatures that +move in the dusk and undergrowths, with weasel, heron, rabbit, hare, +mouse and coney; which plucked the Flower of Immortality in the +Island of Statues and wandered with Usheen in Timanogue. I wanted +to know what all that magic-making meant to the magician, but he +has kept his own secret, and I must be content and grateful to one +who has revealed more of beauty than any other in his time. + +1916 + + + + + +THE POETRY OF JAMES STEPHENS + + +For a generation the Irish bards have endeavored to live in a palace +of art, in chambers hung with the embroidered cloths and made dim +with pale lights and Druid twilights, and the melodies they most +sought for were half soundless. The art of an early age began +softly, to end its songs with a rhetorical blare of sound. The +melodies of the new school began close to the ear and died away in +distances of the soul. Even as the prophet of old was warned to +take off his shoes because the place he stood on was holy ground, +so it seemed for a while in Ireland as if no poet could be accepted +unless he left outside the demesnes of poetry that very useful animal, +the body, and lost all concern about its habits. He could not enter +unless he moved with the light and dreamy foot-fall of spirit. Mr. +Yeats was the chief of this eclectic school, and his poetry at its +best is the most beautiful in Irish literature. But there crowded +after him a whole horde of verse-writers, who seized the most obvious +symbols he used and standardized them, and in their writings one +wandered about, gasping for fresh air land sunlight, for the Celtic +soul seemed bound for ever pale lights of fairyland on the north +and by the by the darkness of forbidden passion on the south, and +on the east by the shadowiness of all things human, and on the west +by everything that was infinite, without form, and void. + +It was a great relief to me, personally, who had lived in the +palace of Irish art for a time, and had even contributed a little +to its dimness, to hear outside the walls a few years ago a sturdy +voice blaspheming against all the formula, and violating the tenuous +atmosphere with its "Insurrections." There are poets who cannot +write with half their being, and who must write with their whole +being, and they bring their poor relation, the body, with them +wherever they go, and are not ashamed of it. They are not at +warfare with the spirit, but have a kind of instinct that the clan +of human powers ought to cling together as one family. With the +best poets of this school, like Shakespeare and Whitman, one rarely +can separate body and soul, for we feel the whole man is speaking. +With Keats, Shelley, Swinburne, and our own Yeats, one feels that +they have all sought shelter from disagreeable actualities in the +world of imagination. James Stephens, as he chanted his Insurrections, +sang with his whole being. Let no one say I am comparing him with +Shakespeare. One may say the blackbird has wings as well as the eagle, +without insisting that the bird in the hedgerows is peer of the winged +creature beyond the mountain-tops. But how refreshing it was to find +somebody who was a poet without a formula, who did not ransack +dictionaries for dead words, as Rossetti did to get living speech, +whose natural passions declared themselves without the least idea +that they ought to be ashamed of themselves, or be thrice refined +in the crucible by the careful alchemist before they could appear +in the drawing-room. Nature has an art of its own, and the natural +emotions in their natural and passionate expression have that kind +of picturesque beauty which Marcus Aurelius, tired, perhaps, of the +severe orthodoxies of Greek and Roman art, referred to when he spoke +of the foam on the jaws of the wild boar and the mane of the lion. + +There were evidences of such an art in Insurrections, the first +book of James Stephens. In the poem called "Fossils," the girl +who flies and the boy who hunts her are followed in flight and +pursuit with a swift energy by the poet, and the lines pant and +gasp, and the figures flare up and down the pages. The energy +created a new form in verse, not an orthodox beauty, which the +classic artists would have admitted, but such picturesque beauty +as Marcus Aurelius found in the foam on the jaws of the wild boar. + +I always want to find the fundamental emotion out of which a poet +writes. It is easy to do this with some, with writers like Shelley +and Wordsworth, for they talked much of abstract things, and a man +never reveals himself so fully as when he does this, when he tries +to interpret nature, when he has to fill darkness with light, and +chaos with meaning. A man may speak about his own heart and may +deceive himself and others, but ask him to fill empty space with +significance, and what he projects on that screen will be himself, +and you can know him even as hereafter he will be known. When a +poet puts his ear to a shell, I know if he listens long enough he +will hear his own destiny. I knew after reading "The Shell" that +in James Stephens we were going to have no singer of the abstract. +There was no human quality or stir in the blind elemental murmur, +and the poet drops it with a sigh of relief: + + O, it was sweet + To hear a cart go jolting down the street. + +From the tradition of the world too he breaks away, from the great +murmuring shell which gives back to us our cries and questionings +and protests soothed into soft, easeful things and smooth orthodox +complacencies, for it was shaped by humanity to whisper back to it +what it wished to hear. From all soft, easeful beliefs and silken +complacencies the last Irish poet breaks away in a book of +insurrections. He is doubtful even of love, the greatest orthodoxy +of any, which so few have questioned, which has preceded all religions +and will survive them all. When he writes of love in "The Red-haired +Man's Wife" and "The Rebel" he is not sure that that old intoxication +of self-surrender is not a wrong to the soul and a disloyalty to the +highest in us. His "Dancer" revolts from the applauding crowd. The +wind cries out against the inference that the beauty of nature points +inevitably to an equal beauty of spirit within. His enemies revolt +against their hate; his old man against his own grumblings, and +the poet himself rebels against his own revolt in that quaint scrap +of verse he prefixes to the volume: + + What's the use + Of my abuse? + The world will run + Around the sun + As it has done + Since time begun + When I have drifted to the deuce: + And what's the use + Of my abuse? + +He does not revolt against the abstract like so many because he +is incapable of thinking. Indeed, he is one of the few Irish poets +we have who is always thinking as he goes along. He does not rebel +against love because he is not himself sweet at heart, for the best +thing in the book is its unfeigned humanity. So we have a personal +puzzle to solve with this perplexing writer which makes us all the +more eager to hear him again. A man might be difficult to understand +and the problem of his personality might not be worth solution, but +it is not so with James Stephens. From a man who can write with +such power as he shows in these two stanzas taken from "The Street +behind Yours" we may expect high things. It is a vision seen with +distended imagination as if by some child strayed from light: + + And though 'tis silent, though no sound + Crawls from the darkness thickly spread, + Yet darkness brings + Grim noiseless things + That walk as they were dead, + They glide and peer and steal around + With stealthy silent tread. + + You dare not walk; that awful crew + Might speak or laugh as you pass by. + Might touch or paw + With a formless claw + Or leer from a sodden eye, + Might whisper awful things they knew, + Or wring their hands and cry. + +There is nothing more grim and powerful than that in The City of +Dreadful Night. It has all the vaporous horror of a Dore grotesque +and will bear examination better. But our poet does not as a rule +write with such unrelieved gloom. He keeps a stoical cheerfulness, +and even when he faces terrible things we feel encouraged to take +his hand and go with him, for he is master of his own soul, and you +cannot get a whimper out of him. He likes the storm of things, and +is out for it. He has a perfect craft in recording wild natural +emotions. The verse in this first book has occasional faults, but +as a rule the lines move, driven by that inner energy of emotion +which will sometimes work more metrical wonders than the most +conscious art. The words hiss at you sometimes, as in "The Dancer," +and again will melt away with the delicacy of fairy bells as in +"The Watcher," or will run like deep river water, as in "The +Whisperer," which in some moods I think is the best poem in the +book until I read "Fossils" or "What Tomas an Buile said in a Pub." +They are too long to print, but I must give myself the pleasure +of quoting the beautiful "Slan Leat," with which he concludes the book, +bidding us, not farewell, but to accompany him on further adventure: + + And now, dear heart, the night is closing in, + The lamps are not yet ready, and the gloom + Of this sad winter evening, and the din + The wind makes in the streets fills all the room. + You have listened to my stories--Seumas Beg + Has finished the adventures of his youth, + And no more hopes to find a buried keg + Stuffed to the lid with silver. He, in truth, + And all alas! grew up: but he has found + The path to truer romance, and with you + May easily seek wonders. We are bound + Out to the storm of things, and all is new. + Give me your hand, so, keeping close to me, + Shut tight your eyes, step forward ... where are we? + +Our new Irish poet declared he was bound "out to the storm of things," +and we all waited with interest for his next utterance. Would he +wear the red cap as the poet of the social revolution, now long +overdue in these islands, or would he sing the Marsellaise of womanhood, +emerging in hordes from their underground kitchens to make a still +greater revolution? He did neither. He forgot all about the storm +of things, and delighted us with his story of Mary, the charwoman's +daughter, a tale of Dublin life, so, kindly, so humane, so vivid, +so wise, so witty, and so true, that it would not be exaggerating +to say that natural humanity in Ireland found its first worthy +chronicler in this tale. + +We have a second volume of poetry from James Stephens, The Hill of +Vision. He has climbed a hill, indeed, but has found cross roads +there leading in many directions, and seems to be a little perplexed +whether the storm of things was his destiny after all. When one +is in a cave there is only one road which leads out, but when one +stands in the sunlight there are endless roads. We enjoy his +perplexity, for he has seated himself by his cross-roads, and has +tried many tunes on his lute, obviously in doubt which sounds sweetest +to his own ear. I am not at all in doubt as to what is best, and I +hope he will go on like Whitman, carrying "the old delicious burdens, +men and women," wherever he goes. For his references to Deity, +Plato undoubtedly would have expelled him from his Republic; and +justly so, for James Stephens treats his god very much as the +African savage treats his fetish. Now it is supplicated, and the +next minute the idol is buffeted for an unanswered prayer or a +neglected duty, and then a little later our Irish African is crooning +sweetly with his idol, arranging its domestic affairs and the marriage +of Heaven and Earth. Sometimes our poet essays the pastoral, and +in sheer gaiety: flies like any bird under the boughs, and up into +the sunlight. There are in his company imps and grotesques, and +fauns and satyrs, who come summoned by his piping. Sometimes, as +in "Eve," the poem of the mystery of womanhood, he is purely beautiful, +but I find myself going back to his men and women; and I hope he +will not be angry with me when I say I prefer his tinker drunken to +his Deity sober. None of our Irish poets has found God, at least a +god any but themselves would not be ashamed to acknowledge. But +our poet does know his men and his women. They are not the shadowy, +Whistler-like decorative suggestions of humanity made by our poetic +dramatists. They have entered like living creatures into his mind, +and they break out there in an instant's unforgettable passion or +agony, and the wild words fly up to the poet's brain to match +their emotion. I do not know whether the verses entitled "The Brute" +are poetry, but they have an amazing energy of expression. + +But our poet can be beautiful when he wills, and sometimes, too, +he has largeness and grandeur of vision and expression. Look at +this picture of the earth, seen from mid-heaven: + + And so he looked to where the earth, asleep, + Rocked with the moon. He saw the whirling sea + Swing round the world in surgent energy, + Tangling the moonlight in its netted foam, + And nearer saw the white and fretted dome + Of the ice-capped pole spin back a larded ray + To whistling stars, bright as a wizard's day, + But these he passed with eyes intently wide, + Till closer still the mountains he espied, + Squatting tremendous on the broad-backed earth, + Each nursing twenty rivers at a birth. + +I would like to quote the verses entitled "Shame." Never have I +read anywhere such an anguished cowering before Conscience, a mighty +creature full of eyes within and without, and pointing fingers and +asped tongues, anticipating in secret the blazing condemnation of +the world. And there is "Bessie Bobtail," staggering down the +streets with her reiterated, inarticulate expression of grief, +moving like one of those wretched whom Blake described in a +marvelous phrase as "drunken with woe forgotten"; and there is +"Satan," where the reconcilement of light and darkness in the +twilights of time is perfectly and imaginatively expressed. + +The Hill of Vision is a very unequal book. There are many verses +full of power, which move with the free easy motion of the literary +athlete. Others betray awkwardness, and stumble as if the writer +had stepped too suddenly into the sunlight of his power, and was +dazed and bewildered. There is some diffusion of his faculties +in what I feel are byways of his mind, but the main current of +his energies will, I am convinced, urge him on to his inevitable +portrayal of humanity. With writers like Synge and Stephens the +Celtic imagination is leaving its Timanoges, its Ildathachs, its +Many Colored Lands and impersonal moods, and is coming down to +earth intent on vigorous life and individual humanity. I can see +that there are great tales to be told and great songs to be sung, +and I watch the doings of the new-comers with sympathy, all the +while feeling I am somewhat remote from their world, for I belong +to an earlier day, and listen to these robust songs somewhat as a +ghost who hears the cock crow, and knows his hours are over, and +he and his tribe must disappear into tradition. + +1912 + + + + + +A NOTE ON SEUMAS O'SULLIVAN + + +As I grow older I get more songless. I am now exiled irrevocably +from the Country of the Young, but I hope I can listen without +jealousy and even with delight to those who still make music in +the enchanted land. I often searched in the "Poet's Corner" of +the country papers with a wild surmise that there, amid reports of +Boards of Guardians and Rural Councils, some poetic young kinsman +may be taking council with the stars, watching more closely the +Plough in the furrows of the heavens than the county instructor at +his task of making farmers drive the plough straight in the fields. +I found many years ago in a country paper a local poet making +genuine music. I remember a line: + + And hidden rivers were murmuring in the dark. + + I went on in the strength of this poem through the desert +of country journalism for many years, hoping to find more hidden +rivers of song murmuring in the darkness. It was a patient life +of unrequited toil, and I have returned to civilization to search +publishers' lists for more easily procurable pleasure. A few years +ago I mined out of the still darker region of manuscripts some +poetic crystals which I thought were valuable, and edited New Songs. +Nearly all my young singers have since then taken flight on their +own account. Some have volumes in the booksellers and some in the +hands of the printers. But there is one shy singer of the group +of writers in New Songs who might easily get overlooked because +his verse takes little or no thought of the past or present or +future of his country: yet the slim book in which is collected +Seumas O'Sullivan's verses reveals a true poet, and if he is too +shy to claim his country in his verses there is no reason why his +country should not claim him, for he is in his way as Irish as any +of our singers. He is, as Mr. W. B. Yeats was in his earlier days, +the literary successor of those old Gaelic poets who were fastidious +in their verse, who loved little in this world but some chance +light in it which reminded them of fairyland, or who, if they were +in love, loved their mistress less for her own sake than because +some turn of her head, or "a foam-pale breast," carried their +impetuous imaginations past her beauty into memories of Helen of +Troy, Deirdre, or some other symbol of that remote and perfect +beauty which, however man desires, he shall embrace only at the +end of time. I think the wives or mistresses of these old poets +must have been very unhappy, for women wish to be loved for what +they know about themselves, and for the tenderness which is in +their hearts, and not because some colored twilight invests them +with a shadowy beauty not their own, and which they know they can +never carry into the light of day. These poets of the transient +look and the evanescent light do not help us to live our daily life, +but they do something which is as necessary. They educate and +refine the spirit so that it shall not come altogether without any +understanding of delicate loveliness into the Kingdom of Heaven, +or gaze on Timanoge with the crude blank misunderstanding of Cockney +tourists staring up at the stupendous dreams pictured on the roof +of the Sistine Chapel. These fastidious scorners of every day and +its interests are always looking through nature for "the herbs +before they were in the field and every flower before it grew," +and through women for the Eve who was in the imagination of the +Lord before she was embodied, and we all need this refining vision +more than we know. It may be asked of us hereafter when we would +mount up into the towers of vision, "How can you desire the beauty +you have not seen, who have not sought or loved its shadow in the +world?" and the Gates of Ivory may not swing open at our knock. +This will never be said to Seumas O'Sullivan, who is always waiting +on the transient look and the evanescent light to build up out of +their remembered beauty the Kingdom of his Heaven: + + Round you light tresses, delicate, + Wind blown, wander and climb + Immortal, transitory. + +Earth has no steady beauty as the calm-eyed immortals have, but +their image glimmers on the waves of time, and out of what instantly +vanishes we can build up something within us which may yet grow +into a calm-eyed immortality of loveliness, we becoming gradually +what we dream of. I have heard people complain of the frailty of +these verses of Seumas O'Sullivan. They want war songs, plough songs, +to nerve the soul to fight or the hand to do its work. I will never +make that complaint. I will only complain if the strife or the +work ever blunt my senses so that I will pass by with an impatient +disdain these delicate snatchings at a beauty which is ever fleeting. +But I would ask him to remember that life never allures us twice +with exactly the same enchantment. Never again will that tress +drift like a woven wind made visible out of Paradise; never again +will that lifted hand, foam-pale, seem like the springing up of +beauty in the world; never a second time will that white brow +remind him of the wonderful white towers of the city of the gods. +To seek a second inspiration is to receive only a second-rate +inspiration, and our poet is a little too fond of lingering in his +verse round a few things, a face, the swaying poplars, or sighing +reeds which had once piped an alluring music in his ears, and which +he longs to hear again. He lives not in too frail a world, but in +too narrow a world, and he should adventure out into new worlds +in the old quest. He, has become a master of delicate and musical +rhythms. I remember reading Seumas O'Sulivan's first manuscripts +with mingled pleasure and horror, for his lines often ran anyhow, +and scansion seemed to him an unknown art, but I feel humbly now +that he can get a subtle quality into his music which I could not +hope to acquire. I would like him to catch some new and rare birds +with that subtle net of his, and to begin to invent more beauty of +his own and to seek for it less. I believe he has got it in him +to do well, to do better than he has done if he will now try to use +his invention more. The poems with a slight narrative in them, +like "The Portent" or the "Saint Anthony," seem to me the most +perfect, and it is in this direction, I think, he will succeed best. +He wants a story to keep him from beating musical and ineffective +wings in the void. I have not said half what I want to say about +Seumas O'Sullivan's verses, but I know the world will not listen +long to the musings of one verse-writer on another. I only hope +this note may send some readers to their bookseller for Seumas +O'Sullivan's poems, and that it may help them to study with more +understanding a mind that I love. + +1909 + + + + + +ART AND LITERATURE + + + +A LECTURE ON THE ART OF G. F. WATTS + + +After the publication of The Gentle Art of Making Enemies the writer +who ventures to speak of art and literature in the same breath needs +some courage. Since the death of Whistler, his opinions about the +independence of art from the moral ideas with which literature is +preoccupied have been generally accepted in the studios. The artist +who is praised by a literary man would hardly be human if he was +not pleased; but he listens with impatience to any criticism or +suggestion about the substance of his art or the form it should take. +I had a friend, an artist of genius, and when we were both young +we argued together about art on equal terms. It had not then +occurred to him that any intelligence I might have displayed in +writing verse did not entitle me to an opinion about modeling; but +one day I found him reading Mr. Whistler's Ten O'clock. The revolt +of art against literature had reached Ireland. After that, while +we were still good friends, he made me feel that I was an outsider, +and when I ventured to plead for a national character in sculpture, +his righteous anger--I might say his ferocity--forced me to talk +of something else. + +I was not convinced he was right, but years after I began to use +the brush a little, and I remember painting a twilight from love +of some strange colors and harmonious lines, and when one of my +literary friends found that its interest depended on color and form, +and that the idea in it could not readily be translated into words, +and that it left him wishing that I would illustrate my poems or +something that had a meaning, I veered round at once and understood +Whistler, and how foolish I was to argue with John Hughes. I joined +in the general insurrection of art against the domination of literature. +But being a writer and much concerned with abstract ideas, I have never +had the comfort and happiness of those who embrace this opinion with +their whole being, and when I was asked to lecture, I thought that +as I had no Irish Whistler to fear, I might speak of art in relation +to these universal ideas which artists hold are for literature and +not subject matter for art at all. + +I must first say it was not my wish to speak. With a world of +noble and immortal forms all about us, it seemed to me as unfitting +that words without art or long labor in their making should be +advertised as an attraction; that any one should be expected to +sit here for an hour to listen to me or another upon a genius which +speaks for itself. I was overruled by Mr. Lane. But it is all wrong, +this desire to hear and hold opinions about art rather than to be +moved by the art itself. I know twenty charlatans who will talk +about art, but never lift their eyes to look at the pictures on +the wall. I remember an Irish poet speaking about art a whole +evening in a room hung round with pictures by Constable, Monet, +and others, and he came into that room and went out of it without +looking at those pictures. His interest in art was in the holding +of opinions about it, and in hearing other opinions, which he could +again talk about. I hope I have made some of you feel uncomfortable. +This may, perhaps, seem malicious, but it is necessary to release +artists from the dogmas of critics who are not artists. + +I would not venture to speak here tonight if I thought that anything +I said could be laid hold of and be turned into a formula, and used +afterwards to torment some unfortunate artist. An artist will take +with readiness advice or criticism from a fellow-artist, so far as +his natural vanity permits; but he writhes under opinions derived +from Ruskin or Tolstoi, the great theorists. You may ask indignantly, +Can no one, then, speak about paintings or statues except painters +or modelers? No; no one would condemn you to such painful silence +and self-suppression. Artists would wish you to talk unceasingly +about the emotions their pain of making pictures arouse in you; +but, under lifelong enemies, do not suggest to artists the theories +under which they should paint. That is hitting below the belt. The +poor artist is as God made him; and no one, not even a Tolstoi, +is competent to undertake his re-creation. His fellow-artists +will pass on to him the tradition of using the brush. He may use +it well or ill; but when you ask him to use his art to illustrate +literary ideas, or ethical ideas, you are asking him to become a +literary man or a preacher. The other arts have their obvious +limitations. The literary man does not dare to demand of the +musician that he shall be scientific or moral. The latter is safe +in uttering every kind of profanity in sound so long as it is music. +Musicians have their art to themselves. But the artist is tormented, +and asked to reflect the thought of his time. Beauty is primarily +what he is concerned with; and the only moral ideas which he can +impart in a satisfactory way are the moral ideas naturally associated +with beauty in its higher or lower forms. But I think, some of you +are confuting me in your own minds at this moment. You say to +yourselves: "But we have all about us the works of great artists +whose inspiration not one will deny. He used his art to express +great ethical ideas. He spoke again and again about these ideas. +He was proud that his art was dedicated to their expression." I am +sorry to say that he did say many things which would have endeared +him to Tolstoi and Ruskin, and for which I respect him as a man, +and which as an artist I deplore. I deplore his speaking of ethical +ideas as the inspiration of his art, because I think they were only +the inspiration of his life; and where he is weakest in his appeal +as an artist is where he summons consciously to his aid ethical +ideas which find their proper expression in religion or literature +or life. + +Watts wished to ennoble art by summoning to its aid the highest +conceptions of literature; but in doing so he seems to me to imply +that art needed such conceptions for its justification, that the +pure artist mind, careless of these ideas, and only careful to make +for itself a beautiful vision of things, was in a lower plane, and +had a less spiritual message. Now that I deny. I deny absolutely +that art needs to call to its aid, in order to justify or ennoble +it, any abstract ideas about love or justice or mercy. + +It may express none of these ideas, and yet express truths of its +own as high and as essential to the being of man; and it is in +spite of himself, in spite of his theories, that the work of Watts +will have an enduring place in the history of art. You will ask +then, "Can art express no moral ideas? Is it unmoral?" In the +definite and restricted sense in which the words "ethical" and +"moral" are generally used, art is, and must by its nature be unmoral. +I do not mean "immoral," and let no one represent me as saying art +must be immoral by its very nature. There are dear newspaper men +to whom it would be a delight to attribute to me such a saying; +and never to let me forget that I said it. When I say that art is +essentially unmoral, I mean that the first impulse to paint comes +from something seen, either beauty of color or form or tone. It +may be light which attracts the artist, or it may be some dimming +of natural forms, until they seem to have more of the loveliness +of mind than of nature. But it is the aesthetic, not the moral +or ethical, nature which is stirred. The picture may afterwards +be called "Charity," or "Faith," or "Hope"--and any of these words +may make an apt title. But what looms up before the vision of the +artist first of all is an image, and that is accepted on account +of its fitness for a picture; and an image which was not pictorial +would be rejected at once by any true artist, whether it was an +illustration of the noblest moral conception or not. Whether a +picture is moral or immoral will depend upon the character of the +artist, and not upon the subject. A man will communicate his +character in everything he touches. He cannot escape communicating +it. He must be content with that silent witness, and not try to +let the virtues shout out from his pictures. The fact is, art is +essentially a spiritual thing, and its vision is perpetually turned +to Ultimates. It is indefinable as spirit is. It perceives in +life and nature those indefinable relations of one thing to another +which to the religious thinker suggest a master mind in nature--a +magician of the beautiful at work from hour to hour, from moment +to moment, in a never-ceasing and solemn chariot motion in the +heavens, in the perpetual and marvelous breathing forth of winds, +in the motion of waters, and in the unending evolution of gay and +delicate forms of leaf and wing. + +The artist may be no philosopher, no mystic; he may be with or +without a moral sense, he may not believe in more than his eye can +see; but in so far as he can shape clay into beautiful and moving +forms he is imitating Deity; when his eye has caught with delight +some subtle relation between color and color there is mysticism +in his vision. I am not concerned here to prove that there is a +spirit in nature or humanity; but for those who ask from art a +serious message, here, I say, is a way of receiving from art an +inspiration the most profound that man can receive. When you ask +from the artist that he should teach you, be careful that you are +not asking him to be obvious, to utter platitudes--that you are +not asking him to debase his art to make things easy for you, who +are too indolent to climb to the mountain, but want it brought to +your feet. There are people who pass by a nocturne by Whistler, +a misty twilight by Corot, and who whisper solemnly before a Noel +Paton as if they were in a Cathedral. Is God, then, only present +when His Name is uttered? When we call a figure Time or Death, +does it add dignity to it? What is the real inspiration we derive +from that noble design by Mr. Watts? Not the comprehension of Time, +not the nature of Death, but a revelation human form can express +of the heroic dignity. Is it not more to us to know that man or +woman can look half-divine, that they can wear an aspect such as +we imagine belongs to the immortals, and to feel that if man is +made in the image of his Creator, his Creator is the archetype of +no ignoble thing? There were immortal powers in Watts' mind when +those figures surged up in it; but they were neither Time nor Death. +He was rather near to his own archetype, and in that mood in which +Emerson was when he said, "I the imperfect adore my own perfect." +Touch by touch, as the picture was built up, he was becoming +conscious of some interior majesty in his own nature, and it was +for himself more than for us he worked. "The oration is to the +orator," says Whitman, "and comes most back to him." The artist, +too, as he creates a beautiful form outside himself, creates +within himself, or admits to his being a nobler beauty than his +eyes have seen. His inspiration is spiritual in its origin, and +there is always in it some strange story of the glory of the King. + +With man and his work we must take either a spiritual or a material +point of view. All half-way beliefs are temporary and illogical. +I prefer the spiritual with its admission of incalculable mystery +and romance in nature, where we find the infinite folded in the atom, +and feel how in the unconscious result and labor of man's hand the +Eternal is working Its will. You may say that this belongs more to +psychology than to art criticism, but I am trying to make clear to +you and to myself the relation which the mind which is in literature +may rightly bear to the vision which is art. Are literature and +ethics to dictate to Art its subjects? Is it right to demand that +the artist's work shall have an obviously intelligible message or +meaning, which the intellect can abstract from it and relate to +the conduct of life? My belief is that the most literature can do +is to help to interpret art, and that art offers to it, as nature +does, a vision of beauty, but of undefined significance. + +No one asks or expects the clouds to shape themselves into ethical +forms, or the sun to shine only on the just and not on the unjust +also. It is vain to expect it, but there is something written +about the heavens declaring the beauty of the Creator and the +firmament showing His handiwork. If the artist can bring whatever +of that vision has touched him into his work we should ask no more, +and must not expect him to be more righteously minded than his +Creator, or to add a finishing tag of moral to justify it all, to +show that Deity is solemnly minded and no mere idle trifler with +beauty like Whistler. + +I have stated my belief that art is spiritual, that its genuine +inspirations come from a higher plane of our being than the ethical +or intellectual; and I think wherever literature or ethics have +so dominated the mind of the artist that they change the form of +his inspiration, his art loses its own peculiar power and gains +nothing. We have here a picture of "Love steering the bark of +Humanity." I may put it rather crudely when I say that pictures +like this are supposed to exert a power on the man who, for example, +would beat his wife, so that love will be his after inspiration. +Anyhow, ethical pictures are painted with some such intention belief. +Now, art has great influence, but I do not believe this or any other +picture would stop a man beating his wife if he wanted to. Art does +not call sinners to repentance; that is not one of its powers. It +fulfils rather another saying: "Unto them that have much shall be +given," bringing delight to those that are already sensitive to +beauty. My own conviction is that ethical pictures are, if anything, +immoral in their influence, as everything must be that forsakes +the law of its own being, and that pictures like this only add to +the vanity of people so righteously minded as to be aware of their +own virtue. We will always have these concessions to passing phases +of thought. We have had requests for the scientific painter--the +man who will paint nature with geological accuracy, and man in +accordance with evolutionary dogmas. He will find his eloquent +literary defenders enchanted to find so much learning to point to +in his work, but it will all pass. The true artist will still be +instinctively spiritual. + +Now I have used the word "spiritual" so often in connection with +art that you may reasonably ask for some definition of my meaning. +I am afraid it is easier to define spirituality in literature than +in art. But a literary definition may help. Spirituality is the +power certain minds have of apprehending formless spiritual essences, +of seeing the eternal in the transitory, of relating the particular +to the universal, the type to the archetype. + +While I give this definition, I hope no artist will ever be insane +enough to make it the guiding principle of his art. I shudder to +think of any conscious attempt in a picture to relate the type to +the archetype. It is a philosophical definition, solely intended +for the spectator. I wish the artist only to paint his vision, +and whether he paints this, or another world he imagines, if it is +art it will be spiritual. I have given a definition of spirituality +in literature, but how now relate it to art? How illustrate its +presence? When Pater wrote his famous description of the Mona Lisa, +that intense and enigmatic face had evoked a spiritual mood. When +he saw in it the summed-up experience of many generations of humanity, +he felt in the picture that relation of the particular to the universal +I have spoken of. When we find human forms suggesting a superhuman +dignity, as in Watts' figures of Time and Death, or in the Phidian +marbles, the type is there melting into the archetype. When Millet +paints a peasant figure of today with some gesture we imagine the +first Sower must have used, it is the eternal in it which makes +the transitory impressive. But these are obvious instances, you +will say, chosen from artists whose pictures lend themselves to +this kind of exposition. What about the art of the landscape painter? +Undeniably a form of art, where is the spirituality? + +I am afraid my intellect is not equal to talking up every picture +that might be suggested and using it to illustrate my meaning, +though I do not think I would despair of finally discovering the +spiritual element in any picture I felt was art. However, I will +go further. We have all felt some element of art lacking in the +painter who goes to Killarney, Italy, or Switzerland, and brings +us back a faithful representation of undeniably beautiful places. +It is all there--the lofty mountains, the lakes, the local color; +but what enchanted us in nature does not touch us in the picture. +What we want is the spirit of the place evoked in us rather than +the place itself. Art is neither pictured botany or geology. A +great landscape is the expression of a mood of the human mind as +definitely as music or poetry is. The artist is communicating his +own emotions. There is some mystic significance in the color he +employs; and then the doorways are opened, and we pass from sense +into soul. We are looking into a soul when we are looking at a +Turner, a Carot, or a Whistler, as surely as when in dream we find +ourselves moving in strange countries which are yet within us, +contained for all their seeming infinitudes in the little hollow +of the brain. All this, I think, is undeniable; but perhaps not +many of you will follow me, though you may understand me, if I go +further and say, that in this, art is unconsciously also reaching +out to archetypes, is lifting itself up to walk in that garden of +the divine mind where, as the first Scripture says, it created +"flowers before they were in the field and every herb before it +grew." A man may sit in an armchair and travel farther than ever +Columbus traveled; and no one can say how far Turner, in his search +after light, had not journeyed into the lost Eden, and he himself +may have been there most surely at the last when his pictures had +become a blaze of incoherent light. + +You may say now that I have objected to literature dominating the +arts, and yet I have drawn from pictures a most complicated theory. +I have felt a little, indeed, as if I was marching through subtleties +to the dismemberment of my mind, but I do not think I have anywhere +contradicted myself or suggested that an artist should work on +these speculations. These may rightly arise in the mind of the +onlooker who will regard a work of art with his whole nature, not +merely with the aesthetic sense, and who will naturally pass from +the first delight of vision into a psychological analysis. A +profound nature will always awaken profound reflections. There +are heads by Da Vinci as interesting in their humanity as Hamlet. +When we see eyes that tempt and allure with lips virginal in their +purity, we feel in the face a union of things which the dual nature +of man is eternally desiring. It is the marriage of heaven and hell, +the union of spirit and flesh, each with their uncurbed desires; +and what is impossible in life is in his art, and is one of the +secrets of its strange fascination. It may seem paradoxical to +say of Watts--a man of genius, who was always preaching through his +art--that it is very difficult to find what he really expresses. +No one is ever for a moment in doubt about what is expressed by +Rossetti, Turner, Millet, Corot, or many contemporary artists who +never preached at all, but whose mood or vision peculiar to themselves +is easily definable. With Watts the effort at analyses is confused: +first by his own statement about the ethical significance of his +works, which I think misleading, because while we may come away +from his pictures with many feelings of majesty or beauty or mystery, +the ethical spirit is not the predominant one. That rapturous winged +spirit which he calls Love Triumphant might just as easily be called +Music or Song, and another allegory be attached to it without our +feeling any more special fitness or unfitness in the explanation. +I see a beautiful exultant figure, but I do not feel love as the +fundamental mood in the painter, as I feel the religious mood is +fundamental in the Angelus of Millet. I do not need to look for +a title to that or for the painting of The Shepherdess to feel how +earth and her children have become one in the vision of the painter; +that the shepherdess is not the subject, nor the sheep, nor the +still evening, but altogether are one mood, one being, in which +all things move in harmony and are guided by the Great Shepherd. +Well, I do not feel that Love; or Charity, or Hope are expressed in +this way in Watts, and that the ethical spirit is not fundamental with +him as the religious spirit is with Millet. He has an intellectual +conception of his moral idea, but is not emotionally obsessed by it, +and the basis of a man's art is not to be found in his intellectual +conceptions, which are light things, but in his character or rather +in his temperament. We know, for all the poetical circumstances of +Rossetti's pictures, what desire it is that shines out of those +ardent faces, and how with Leighton "the form alone is eloquent," +and that Tumer's God was light as surely as with any Persian +worshipper of the sun. Here and there they may have been tempted +otherwise, but they never strayed far from their temperamental way +of expressing themselves in art. So that the first thing to be +dismissed in trying to understand Watts is Watts' own view of his +art and its inspiration. He is not the first distinguished man +whose intellect has not proved equal to explaining rightly its +sources of power. Our next difficulty in discovering the real +Watts arises because he did not look at nature or life directly. +He was overcome by great traditions. He almost persistently looks +at nature through one or two veils. There is a Phidian veil and +a Venetian or rather an Italian veil, and almost everything in life +and nature which could not be expressed in terms of these traditions +he ignored. I might say that no artist of equal genius ever painted +pictures and brought so little fresh observation into his art except, +perhaps, Burne-Jones. Both these artists seem to have a secret and +refined sympathy with Fuseli's famous outburst, "Damn Nature, she +always puts me out!" Even when the sitter came, Watts seems to +have been uneasy unless he could turn him into a Venetian nobleman +or person of the Middle Ages, or could disguise in some way the +fact that Artist and Sitter belonged to the nineteenth century. He +does not seem to be aware that people must breathe even in pictures. +His skies rest solidly on the shoulders of his figures as if they +were cut out to let the figures be inserted. If he were not a man +of genius there would have been an end of him. But he was a man of +genius, and we must try to understand the meaning of his acceptance +of tradition. If we understand it in Watts we will understand a +great deal of contemporary art and literature which is called +derivative, art issuing out of art, and literature out of literature. + +The fact is that this kind of art in which Watts and Burne-Jones +were pioneers is an art which has not yet come to its culmination +or to any perfect expression of itself. There is a genuinely +individual impulse in it, and it is not derivative merely, although +almost every phase of it can be related to earlier art. It has +nothing in common with the so-called grand school of painting which +produced worthless imitations of Michael Angelo and Raphael. It +is feeling out for a new world, and it is trying to use the older +tradition as a bridge. The older art held up a mirror to natural +forms and brought them nearer to man. In the perfect culmination +of this new art one feels how a complete change might take place +and natural forms be used to express an internal nature or the +soul of the artist. Colors and forms, like words after the lapse +of centuries, enlarge their significance. The earliest art was +probably simple and literal--there may have been the outline of a +figure filled up with some flat color. Then as art became more +complex, colors began to have an emotional meaning quite apart +from their original relation to an object. The artist begins +unconsciously to relate color more intimately to his own temperament +than to external nature. At last, after the lapse of ages, some +sensitive artist begins to imagine that he has discovered a complete +language capable of expressing any mood of mind. The passing of +centuries has enriched every color, and left it related to some +new phase of the soul. Phidian or Michael Angelesque forms gather +their own peculiar associations of divinity or power. In fact, +this new art uses the forms of the old as symbols or hieroglyphs +to express more complicated ideas than the older artists tried +to depict. + +Watts never attempted, for all his admiration of these men, to +follow them in their efforts to realize perfectly the forms that +they conceived. They had done this once and for all, and repetition +may have seemed unnecessary. But the lofty temper awakened by +those stupendous creations could be aroused by a suggestion of +their peculiar characteristics. Association of ideas will in some +subtle way bring us back to the Phidian demigods when we look at +forms and draperies vaguely suggestive of the Parthenon. I do not +say that Watt's did this consciously, but instinctively he felt +compelled, with the gradual development of his own mind, to use +the imaginative traditions created by other artists as a language +through which he might find expression peculiar to himself. It +is a highly intellectual art to which tradition was a necessity, +as much as it is to the poet, who when he speaks of "beauty" draws +upon a sentiment created by millions of long-dead lovers, or who, +when he thinks of the "spirit," is, in his use of the word, the +heir of countless generations who brooded upon the mysteries. + +Just as in Millet, the painter of peasants, there was a religious +spirit shaping all things into austere and elemental simplicities, +so in Watts there was an intellectual spirit, seeking everywhere +for the traces of mind trying to express the bodiless and abstract. +With Whitman he seems to cry out, "The soul for ever and ever!" It +is there in the astonishing head of Swinburne, whom he reveals, if +I may use a vulgar phrase, as a poetic "bounder," but illuminated +and etherealized by genius. It is in the head of Mill, the very +symbol of the moral reasoning--mind. It is in the face of Tennyson, +with its too self-conscious seership, and in all those vague faces +of the imaginative paintings, into which, to use Pater's phrase, +"the soul with all its maladies has passed." In his pictures he +draws on the effects of earlier art, and throws his sitters back +until they seem to belong to some nondescript mediaeval country, +like the Bohemia of the dramatists; and he darkens and shuts out +the light of day that this starlight of soul may be more clearly +seen, and destroys, as far as he can, all traces of the century +they live in, for the mind lives in all the ages, and he would show +it as the pilgrim of eternity. Because Watts' art was necessarily +so brooding and meditative, looking at life with half-closed eyes +and then shutting them to be alone with memory and the interpreter, +his painting, so beautiful and full of surety in early pictures +like the Wounded Heron, grows to be often labored and muddy, and +his drawing uncertain. That he could draw and paint with the greatest, +he every now and then gave proof; but the surety of beautiful +craftsmanship deserts those who have not always their eye fixed on +an object of vision; and Watts was not, like Blake or Shelley, one +of the proud seers whose visions are of "forms more real than living +man." He seemed to feel what his effects should be rather than to +see them, or else his vision was fleeting and his art was a laborious +brooding to recapture the lost impression. In his color he always +seems to me to be second-hand, as if the bloom and freshness of his +paint had worn off through previous use by other artists. It seemed +to be a necessity of his curiously intellectual art that only +traditional colors and forms should be employed, and it is only +rarely we get the shock of a new creation, and absolutely original +design, as in Orpheus, where the passionate figure turns to hold +what is already a vanishing shadow. + +Watts' art was an effort to invest his own age, an age of reason, +with the nobilities engendered in an age of faith. At the time +Watts was at his prime his contemporaries were everywhere losing +belief in the spiritual conceptions of earlier periods; they were +analyzing everything, and were deciding that what was really true +in religion, what gave it nobility, was its ethical teaching; +retain that, and religion might go, illustrating the truth of the +Chinese philosopher who said: "When the spirit is lost, men follow +after charity and duty to one's neighbors." The unity of belief +was broken up into diverse intellectual conceptions. Men talked +about love and liberty, patriotism, duty, charity, and a whole +host of abstractions moral and intellectual, which they had +convinced themselves were the essence of religion and the real +cause of its power over man. Whether Watts lost faith like his +contemporaries I do not know, but their spirit infected his art. +He set himself to paint these abstractions; and because we cannot +imagine these abstractions with a form, we feel something +fundamentally false in this side of his art. He who paints a man, +an angelic being, or a divine being, paints something we feel may +have life. But it is impossible to imagine Time with a body as it +is to imagine a painting embodying Newton's law of gravitation. It +is because such abstractions do not readily take shape that Watts +drew so much on the imaginative tradition of his predecessors. +Where these pictures are impressive is where the artist slipped by +his conscious aim, and laid hold of the nobility peculiar to the +men and women he used as symbols. It is not Time or Death which +awes us in Watts' picture, but majestical images of humanity; and +Watts is at his greatest as an inventor when humanity itself most +occupies him when he depicts human life only, and lets it suggest +its own natural infinity, as in those images of the lovers drifting +through the Inferno, with whom every passion is burnt out and +exhausted but the love through which they fell. + +Life itself is more infinite, noble, and suggestive than thought. +We soon come to the end of the ingenious allegory. It tells only +one story but where there is a perfect image of life there is +infinitude and mystery. We do not tire considering the long +ancestry of expression in a face. It may lead us back through +the ages; but we do tire of the art which imprisons itself within +formulae, and says to the spectator: "In this way and in no other +shall you regard what is before you." No man is profound enough +to explain the nature of his own inspiration. Socrates says that +the poet utters many things which are truer than he himself understands. +The same thing applies to many a great artist, who, when he paints +tree or field, or face, or form, finds that there comes on him a +mysterious quickening of his nature, and he paints he knows not what. +It is like and unlike what his eyes have seen. It may be the same +field, but we feel there the presence of the spirit. It may be the +same figure, but it is made transcendental, as when the Word had +become flesh and dwelt among us. His inspiration is akin to that +of the prophets of old, whose words rang but for an instant and +were still, yet they created nations whose only boundaries were +the silences where their speech had not been heard. His majestical +figures are prophecies. His ecstatic landscapes bring us nigh to +the beauty which was in Eden. His art is a divine adventure, in +which he, like all of us who are traveling in so many ways, seeks, +consciously or unconsciously, to regain the lost unity with nature +and the knowledge of his own immortal being, and it is so you will +best understand it. + +1906 + + + + + +AN ARTIST OF GAELIC IRELAND + + +The art of Hone and the elder Yeats, while in spirit filled with a +sentiment which was the persistence of ancient moods into modern +times, still has not the external characteristics of Gaeldom; but +looking at the pictures of the younger Yeats it seemed to me that +for the first time we had something which could be called altogether +Gaelic. The incompleteness of the sketches suggests the term "folk" +as expressing exactly the inspiration of this very genuine art. We +have had abundance of Irish folk-lore, but we knew nothing of folk-art +until the figures of Jack Yeats first romped into our imagination a +few years ago. It was the folk-feeling lit up by genius and +interpreted by love. It was not, and is now less than ever, the +patronage bestowed by the intellectual artist on the evidently +picturesque forms of a life below his own. + +I suspect Jack Yeats thinks the life of the Sligo fisherman is as +good a method of life as any, and that he could share it for a +long time without being in the least desirous of a return to the +comfortable life of convention. The name of Muglas Hyde suggests +itself to me as a literary parallel. These sketches have all the +prodigality of invention, the exuberance of gesture, and animation +of "The Twisting of the Rope," and the poetry is of as high or higher a +n order. In the drawing called "Midsummer Eve" there is a mystery +which is not merely the mystery of night and shadow. It is the +mystery of the mingling of spirit with spirit which is suggested +by the solitary figure with face upturned to the stars. We have +all memories of such summer nights when into the charmed heart falls +the enchantment we call ancient, though the days have no fellows, +nor will ever have any, when the earth glows with the dusky hues +of rich pottery, and the stars, far withdrawn into faery altitudes, +dance with a gaiety which is more tremendous and solemn than any +repose. The night of this picture is steeped in such a dream, and +I know not whether it is communicated, or a feeling arising in myself; +but there seems everywhere in it the breathing of life, subtle, +exultant, penetrating. It is conceived in the mood of awe and prayer, +which makes Millet's pictures as religious as any whichever hung +over the altar, for surely the "Angelus" is one of the most spiritual +of pictures, though the peasants bow their heads and worship in a +temple not built with hands. I do not, of course, compare otherwise +than in the mood the "Midsummer Eve" to such a masterpiece; but +there is a kinship between the beauty revealed in great and in +little things, and our thought turns from the stars to the flowers +with no feeling of descent into an alien world. But this mood is +rare in life as in art, and it is only occasionally that the younger +Yeats becomes the interpreter of the spirituality of the peasant. +He is more often the recorder of the extravagant energies of the +race-course and the market-place, where he finds herded together +all the grotesque humors of West Irish life. + +We recognize his figures as distinctly Irish. Here the old rollicking +Lever and Lover type of Irishmen reappear, hunting like the very devil, +with faces set in the last ecstasy of rapid motion. There is an +excess of energy in these furious riders which almost gives them a +symbolic character. They seem to ride on some passionate business +of the soul rather than for any transitory excitement of the body. +And besides these wild horse-men there are quiet and lovely figures +like "A Mother of the Rosses," holding her child to her breast in +an opalescent twilight, through which the boat that carries her moves. +There are always large and noble outlines, which suggest that if +Jack Yeats had more grandiose ambitions he might have been the Millet +of Irish rural life, but he is too much the symbolist, hating all +but essentials, to elaborate his art. + +In writing of Jack Yeats mention must be made of his black and white +work, which at its best has a primitive intensity. The lines have +a kind of Gothic quality, reminding one of the rude glooms, the +lights and lines of some half-barbarian cathedral. They are very +expressive and never undecided. The artist always knows what he +is going to do. There is no doubt he has a clear image before him +when he takes up pen or brush. A strong will is always directing +the strong lines, forcing them to repeat an image present to the +inner eye. In his early days Jack Yeats loafed about the quays at +Sligo, and we may be sure he was at all the races, and paid his +penny to go into the side-shows, and see the freaks, the Fat Woman +and the Skeleton Man. It was probably at this period of his life +he was captured by pirates of the Spanish Main. My remembrance of +Irish county towns at that time is that no literature flourished +except the Penny Dreadful and the local press. I may be doing Jack +Yeats an injustice when hailing him at the beginning of a fascinating +career I yet suspect a long background of Penny Dreadfuls behind it. +How else could he have drawn his pirates? They are the only pirates +in art who manifest the true pride, glory, beauty, and terror of +their calling as the romantic heart of childhood conceives of it. +The pirate has been lifted up to a strange kind of poetry in some +of Jack Yeats' pictures. I remember one called "Walking the Plank." +The solemn theatrical face, lifted up to the blue sky in a last +farewell to the wild world and its lawless freedom, haunted me for +days. There was also a pen-and-ink drawing I wish I could reproduce +here. A young buccaneer, splendid in evil bravery, leaned across +a bar where a strange, beastly, little, old, withered, rat-like +figure was drawing the drink. The little figure was like a devil +with the soul all concentrated into malice, and the whole picture +affected one with terror like a descent into some ferocious +human hell. + +In all these figures, pirates or peasants, there is an ever present +suggestion of poetry; it is in the skies, or in the distance, or +in the colors; and these people who laugh in the fairs will have +after hours as solemn as the quiet star-gazer in the "Midsummer Eve." +This poetry is evident in the oddest ways, and escapes analysis, so +elusive and so original is it, as in the "Street of Shows." Nothing +at first thought seems more hopelessly remote from poetry than the +country circus, with its lurid posters of the Giant Schoolgirl, the +Petrified Man, and the Mermaid, all in strong sunlight; but the +heart carries with it its own mood, and this flaring scene has +undergone some indefinite transformation by the alchemy of genius, +and it assumes the character of a fairy tale or Arabian Nights +Entertainment imagined in the fantastic dreams of childhood. The +sleepy doorkeeper is a goblin or gnome. Perhaps the charm of it +all is that it is so evidently illusion, for when the heart is +strong in its own surety it can look out on the world, and smile +on things which would be unendurable if felt to be permanent, knowing +they are only dreams. + +Many of these sketches have a largeness, almost a nobility, of +conception, which is, I think, a gift from father to son. "After +the Harvest's Saved" is something elemental. The "Post-car" suggests +the horses of the sun, or the stage coach in De Quincey's extraordinary +dream, when the opium had finally rioted in his brain, and transformed +his stage-coach into a chariot carrying news of some everlasting +victory. Blake has said "exuberance is genius," and there is an +excess of energy or passion, or a dilation of the forms, or a peace +deeper than mere quietude in the figures of Mr. Yeats' pictures, +which gives them that symbolic character which genius always impresses +on its works. + +The coloring grows better every year; it is more varied and purer. +It is sometimes sombre, as in the tragic and dramatic "Simon the +Cyrenian," and sometimes rich and flowerlike, but always charged +with sentiment, and there is a curious fitness in it even when it +is evidently unreal. These blues and purples and pale greens--what +crowd ever seemed clad in such twilight colors? And yet we accept +it as natural, for this opalescence is always in the mist-laden air +of the West; it enters into the soul today as it did into the +soul of the ancient Gael, who called it Ildathach--the many-colored +land; it becomes part of the atmosphere of the mind; and I think +Mr. Yeats means here to express, by one of the inventions of genius, +that this dim radiant coloring of his figures is the fitting symbol +of the fairyland which is in their hearts. I have not felt so +envious of any artist's gift for a long time; not envy of his +power of expression, but of his way of seeing things. We are all +seeking today for some glimpse of the fairyland our fathers knew; +but all the fairylands, the Silver Cloud World, the Tirnanoge, the +Land of Heart's Desire, rose like dreams out of the human soul, +and in tracking them there Mr. Yeats has been more fortunate than +us all, for he has come to the truth, perhaps hardly conscious of +it himself. + +1902 + + + + +TWO IRISH ARTISTS + + +It is unjust to an artist to write on the spur of the moment of +his work--of the just seen picture which pleases or displeases. +For what instantly delights the eye may never win its way into the +heart, and what repels at first may steal later on into the +understanding, and find its interpretation in a deeper mood. The +final test of a picture, or of any work of art, is its power of +enduring charm. There are many circles in the Paradise of Beautiful +Memories, and half unconsciously, but with a justice, we at last +place each in its hierarchy, remote or near to the centre of our +being; and I propose here rather to speak of the impression left +in my memory after seeing the work of Yeats and Hone for many years, +than to describe in detail the pictures--some new, some familiar-- +which by a happy thought have been gathered together for exhibition. +To tell an artist that you remember his pictures with love after +many years is the highest praise you can give him; and to +distinguish the impression produced from others is a pleasure I +am glad to be here allowed. + +An artist like Mr. Yeats, whose main work has been in portraiture, +must often find himself before sitters with whom he has little +sympathy, and we all expect to find portraits which do not interest +us, because the interpreter has been at fault, and has failed in +his vision. With the born craftsman, who always gives us beautiful +brushwork, we do not expect these inequalities, but with Mr. Yeats +technical power is not the most prominent characteristic. He broods +or dreams over his sitters, and his meditation always tends to the +discovery of some spiritual or intellectual life in them, or some +hidden charm in the nature, or something to love; and if he finds +what he seeks, we are sure, not always of a complete picture, but +of a poetic illumination, a revelation of character, a secret +sweetness for which we forgive the weakness or indecision manifest +here and there, and which are relics of the hours before the final +surety was attained. + +I do not know what Mr. Yeats' philosophy of life is, but in his +work he has been over-mastered by the spirit of his race, and he +belongs to those who from the earliest dawn of Ireland have sought +for the Heart's Desire, and who have refined away the world, until +only fragments remained to them. They have not accepted life as +it is, and Mr. Yeats could not paint like Reynolds or Romney the +beauty of every day in its best attire. He is like the Irish poets +who have rarely left a complete description of women, but who speak +of some transitory motion or fragile charm--"a thin palm like foam +of the sea," "a white body," or in such vague phrases, until it +seems a spirit is praised and not flesh and blood. I remember the +faces of women and children in his pictures where everything is +blurred or obscured, save faces which have a nameless charm. They +look at you with long-remembered glances out of the brooding hour +of twilight, out of reverie and dream. It is the hidden heart +which looks out, and we love these women and children for this, +for surely the heart's desire is its own secret. + +His portraits of men have kindred qualities, and the magnificent +picture of John O'Leary shows him at his best. It is itself a symbol +of the movement of which O'Leary was the last great representative. +The stately patriarchal head of the old chief is the head of the +idealist, so sure of his own truth that he must act, and, if needs +be, become the martyr for his ideal. But the delicate hands are +not the hands of an empire-breaker. This portrait will probably +find its last resting-place in the National Gallery, where, with a +curious irony, the Government places the portraits of the dead +rebels who gave its statesmen many an anxious day and many a nightmare; +and so it will go on, perhaps, until the contemplation of these +pictures inspires some boy with an equal or better head and a +stronger hand, and then--. + +But to return to Mr. Yeats. Some earlier pictures show him +attempting to paint directly the ideal world of romance and poetry; +yet interesting as these are, they do not convey the same impression +of mystery as the pictures of today. Indeed, the light seen behind +or through a veil is always more suggestive than the unveiled light. +It may be that the spirit is a formless breath which pervades form, +and it is better revealed as a light in the eyes, as a brooding +expression, than by the choice of ancient days and other-world +subjects, where the shapes can be molded to ideal forms by the +artist's will. However it is, it is certain that Millet, the +realist, is more spiritual than Moreau or Burne-Jones for all +their archaic design; and Mr. Yeats, who, as his King Goll shows, +might have been a great romantic painter, has probably chosen wisely, +and has painted more memorable pictures than if he had gone back +to the fairyland of Celtic mythology. + +To turn from Yeats to Hone is to turn from the lighted hearth to +the wilderness. Humanity is very far away, or is huddled up under +immense skies, where it seems of less importance than the rocks. +The earth on which men have lived, where the work of their hand is +evident, with all the sentiment of the presence of man, with smoke +arising from numberless homes, is foreign to Mr. Hone. The monsters +of the primeval world might sprawl on the rocks, for all the evidence +of lapse of time since their day, in many of his pictures. He, too, +has refined away his world until only fragments of the earth remain +to him where he can dream in; and these are waste places, where +the salt of the sea is in the wind, and the skies are gray and vapor- +laden, or the loneliness of dim twilights are over level sands. +Whatever else he paints is devoid of its proper interest, for he +seems to impose on the cattle in the fields and on the habitable +places a sentiment alien to their nature. He has a mind with but +one impressive mood, and his spirit is never kindled, save in the +society where none intrude; but in his own domain he is a master, +and is always sure of himself and his effect. There is no tentative, +undecisive brushwork, such as we often see in the subtle search for +the unrevealed, which makes or mars Mr. Yeats' work. He is at home +in his peculiar world, while the other is always seeking for it. + +"A Sunset on Malahide Sands" shows a greater intensity than is +usual even in Mr. Hone's work. There is something thrilling in +this twilight trembling over the deserted world. Philosophies may +prove very well in the lecture-room, says Whitman, and not prove +at all under the sky and stars. Pictures likewise may seem beautiful +in a gallery, yet look thin and unreal where, with a turn of the +head, one could look out at the pictures created hour after hour +by the Master of the Beautiful; but there is some magic in this +vision made up of elemental light, darkness, and loneliness, and +we feel awed as if we knew the Spirit was hidden in His works. But +primitive as this peculiar world is, and remote from humanity, it +is just here we find a human revelation; for is not all art a symbol +of the creative mind, and if we were wise enough we would understand +that in art the light on every cloud, and the clear spaces above +the cloud, and the shadows of the earth beneath are made out of +the lights, infinitudes, and shadows of the soul, and are selected +from nature because of some correspondence, unconscious or half felt. +But these things belong more to the psychology of the artist mind +than to the appreciation of its work. I have said enough, I hope, to +attract to the work of these artists, in a mood of true understanding, +those who would like to believe in the existence in Ireland of a +genuine art. For ignored and uncared for as art is, we have some +names to be proud of, and of these Mr. Yeats and Mr. Hone are foremost. + +1902 + + + + +"ULSTER" + + +AN OPEN LETTER TO MR. RUDYARD KIPLING + + +I Speak to you, brother, because you have spoken to me, or rather +you have spoken for me. I am a native of Ulster. So far back as +I can trace the faith of my forefathers they held the faith for +whose free observance you are afraid. + +I call you brother, for so far as I am known beyond the circle of +my personal friends it is as a poet. We are not a numerous tribe, +but the world has held us in honor, because on the whole in poetry +is found the highest and sincerest utterance of man's spirit. In +this manner of speaking if a man is not sincere his speech betrayeth +him, for all true poetry was written on the Mount of Transfiguration, +and there is revelation in it and the mingling of heaven and earth. +I am jealous of the honor of poetry, and I am jealous of the good +name of my country, and I am impelled by both emotions to speak to you. + +You have blood of our race in you, and you may, perhaps, have some +knowledge of Irish sentiment. You have offended against one of our +noblest literary traditions in the manner in which you have published +your thoughts. You begin by quoting Scripture. You preface your +verses on Ulster by words from the mysterious oracles of humanity +as if you had been inflamed and inspired by the prophet of God; +and you go on to sing of faith in peril and patriotism betrayed +and the danger of death and oppression by those who do murder by +night, which things, if one truly feels, he speaks of without +consideration of commerce or what it shall profit him to speak. But +you, brother, have withheld your fears for your country and mine until +they could yield you a profit in two continents. After all this high +speech about the Lord and the hour of national darkness it shocks me +to find this following your verses: "Copyrighted in the United +States of America by Rudyard Kipling." You are not in want. You +are the most successful man of letters of your time, and yet you +are not above making profit out of the perils of your country. You +ape the lordly speech of the prophets, and you conclude by warning +everybody not to reprint your words at their peril. In Ireland +every poet we honor has dedicated his genius to his country without +gain, and has given without stint, without any niggardly withholding +of his gift when his nation was dark and evil days. Not one of +our writers, when deeply moved about Ireland, has tried to sell +the gift of the spirit. You, brother, hurt me when you declare +your principles, and declare a dividend to yourself out of your +patriotism openly and at the same time. + +I would not reason with you, but that I know there is something +truly great and noble in you, and there have been hours when the +immortal in you secured your immortality in literature, when you +ceased to see life with that hard cinematograph eye of yours, and +saw with the eyes of the spirit, and power and tenderness and +insight were mixed in magical tales. But you were far from the +innermost when you wrote of my countrymen us you did. + +I have lived all my life in Ireland, holding a different faith from +that held by the majority. I know Ireland as few Irishmen know it, +county by county, for I traveled all over Ireland for years, and, +Ulster man as I am, and proud of the Ulster people, I resent the +crowning of Ulster with all the virtues and the dismissal of other +Irishmen as thieves and robbers. I resent the cruelty with which +you, a stranger, speak of the lovable and kindly people I know. + +You are not even accurate in your history when you speak of Ulster's +traditions and the blood our forefathers spilt. Over a century ago +Ulster was the strong and fast place of rebellion, and it was in +Ulster that the Volunteers stood beside their cannon and wrung the +gift of political freedom for the Irish Parliament. You are +blundering in your blame. You speak of Irish greed in I know not +what connection, unless you speak of the war waged over the land; +and yet you ought to know that both parties in England have by Act +after Act confessed the absolute justice and rightness of that +agitation, Unionist no less than Liberal, and both boast of their +share in answering the Irish appeal. They are both proud today of +what they did. They made inquiry into wrong and redressed it. But +you, it seems, can only feel sore and angry that intolerable +conditions imposed by your laws were not borne in patience and +silence. For what party do you speak? What political ideal inspires +you? When an Irishman has a grievance you smite him. How differently +would you have written of Runnymede and the valiant men who rebelled +when oppressed. You would have made heroes out of them. Have you +no soul left, after admiring the rebels in your own history, to +sympathize with other rebels suffering deeper wrongs? Can you not +see deeper into the motives for rebellion than the hireling reporter +who is sent to make up a case for the paper of a party? The best +men in Ulster, the best Unionists in Ireland will not be grateful +to you for libeling their countrymen in your verse. For, let the +truth be known, the mass of Irish Unionists are much more in love +with Ireland than with England. They think Irish Nationalists are +mistaken, and they fight with them and use hard words, and all the +time they believe Irishmen of any party are better in the sight of +God than Englishmen. They think Ireland is the best country in +the world to live in, and they hate to hear Irish people spoken of +as murderers and greedy scoundrels. Murderers! Why, there is more +murder done in any four English shires in a year than in the whole +of the four provinces of Ireland! Greedy! The nation never +ccepted a bribe, or took it as an equivalent or payment for an +ideal, and what bribe would not have been offered to Ireland if it +had been willing to forswear its traditions. + +I am a person whose whole being goes into a blaze at the thought +of oppression of faith, and yet I think my Catholic countrymen more +tolerant than those who hold the faith I was born in. I am a +heretic judged by their standards, a heretic who has written and +made public his heresies, and I have never suffered in friendship +or found my heresies an obstacle in life. I set my knowledge, the +knowledge of a lifetime, against your ignorance, and I say you have +used your genius to do Ireland and its people a wrong. You have +intervened in a quarrel of which you do not know the merits like +any brawling bully, who passes, and only takes sides to use his +strength. If there was a high court of poetry, and those in power +jealous of the noble name of poet, and that none should use it +save those who were truly Knights of the Holy Ghost, they would +hack the golden spurs from your heels and turn you out of the Court. +You had the ear of the world and you poisoned it with prejudice and +ignorance. You had the power of song, and you have always used it +on behalf of the strong against the weak. You have smitten with +all your might at creatures who are frail on earth but mighty in +the heavens, at generosity, at truth, at justice, and heaven has +withheld vision and power and beauty from you, for this your verse +is but a shallow newspaper article made to rhyme. Truly ought the +golden spurs to be hacked from your heels and you be thrust out +of the Court. + +1912 + + + + +IDEALS OF THE NEW RURAL SOCIETY + + +For a country where political agitations follow each other as +rapidly as plagues in an Eastern city, it is curious how little +constructive thought we can show on the ideals of a rural civilization. +But economic peace ought surely to have its victories to show as well +as political war. I would a thousand times rather dwell on what men +and women working together may do than on what may result from +majorities at Westminster. The beauty of great civilizations has +been built up far more by the people working together than by any +corporate action of the State. In these socialistic days we grow +pessimistic about our own efforts and optimistic about the working +of the legislature. I think we do right to expect great things +from the State, but we ought to expect still greater things from +ourselves. We ought to know full well that, if the State did twice +as much as it does, we shall never rise out of mediocrity among +the nations unless we have unlimited faith in the power of our +personal efforts to raise and transform Ireland, and unless we +translate the faith into works. The State can give a man an +economic holding, but only the man himself can make it into Earthly +Paradise, and it is a dull business, unworthy of a being made in +the image of God, to grind away at work without some noble end to +be served, some glowing ideal to be attained. + +Ireland is a horribly melancholy and cynical country. Our literary +men and poets, who ought to give us courage, have taken to writing +about the Irish as people who "went forth to battle, but always fell," +sentimentalizing over incompetence instead of invigorating us and +liberating us and directing our energies. We have developed a new +and clever school of Irish dramatists who say they are holding up +the mirror to Irish peasant nature, but they reflect nothing but +decadence. They delight in the broken lights of insanity, the +ruffian who beats his wife, the weakling who is unfortunate in +love and who goes and drinks himself to death, while the little +decaying country towns are seized on with avidity and exhibited on +the stage in every kind of decay and human futility and meanness. +Well, it is good to be chastened in spirit, but it is a thousand +times better to be invigorated in spirit. To be positive is always +better than to be negative. These writers understand and sympathize +with Ireland more through their lower nature than their higher nature. +Judging by the things people write in Ireland, and by what they go +to see performed on the stage, it is more pleasing to them to see +enacted characters they know are meaner than themselves than to see +characters which they know are nobler than themselves. + +All this is helping on our national pessimism and self-mistrust. It +helps to fix these features permanently in our national character, +which were excusable enough as temporary moods after defeat. The +younger generation should hear nothing about failures. It should +not be hypnotized into self-contempt. Our energies in Ireland are +sapped by a cynical self-mistrust which is spread everywhere through +society. It is natural enough that the elder generation, who were +promised so many millenniums, but who actually saw four million +people deducted from the population, should be cynical. But it +is not right they should give only to the younger generation the +heritage of their disappointments without any heritage of hope. +From early childhood parents and friends are hypnotizing the child +into beliefs and unbeliefs, and too often they are exiling all +nobility out of life, all confidence, all trust, all hope; they +are insinuating a mean self-seeking, a self-mistrust, a vulgar +spirit which laughs at every high ideal, until at last the hypnotized +child is blinded to the presence of any beauty or nobility in life. +No country can ever hope to rise beyond a vulgar mediocrity where +there is not unbounded confidence in what its humanity can do. The +self-confident American will make a great civilization yet, because +he believes with all his heart and soul in the future of his country +and in the powers of the American people. What Whitman called +their "barbaric yawp" may yet turn into the lordliest speech and +thought, but without self-confidence a race will go no whither. If +Irish people do not believe they can equal or surpass the stature +of any humanity which has been upon the globe, then they had better +all emigrate and become servants to some superior race, and leave +Ireland to new settlers who may come here with the same high hopes +as the Pilgrim Fathers had when they went to America. + +We must go on imagining better than the best we know. Even in +their ruins now, Greece and Italy seem noble and beautiful with +broken pillars and temples made in their day of glory. But before +ever there was a white marble temple shining on a hill it shone +with a more brilliant beauty in the mind of some artist who designed +it. Do many people know how that marvelous Greek civilization spread +along the shores of the Mediterranean? Little nations owning hardly +more land than would make up an Irish barony sent out colony after +colony. The seed of beautiful life they sowed grew and blossomed +out into great cities and half-divine civilizations. Italy had a +later blossoming of beauty in the Middle Ages, and travelers today +go into little Italian towns and find them filled with masterpieces +of painting and architecture and sculpture, witnesses of a time +when nations no larger than an Irish county rolled their thoughts +up to Heaven and miked their imagination with the angels. Can we +be contented in Ireland with the mean streets of our country towns +and the sordid heaps of our villages dominated in their economics +by the vendors of alcohol, and inspired as to their ideals by the +vendors of political animosities? + +I would not mind people fighting in a passion to get rid of all +that barred some lordly scheme of life, but quarrels over political +bones from which there is little or nothing wholesome to be picked +only disgust. People tell me that the countryside must always be +stupid and backward, and I get angry, as if it were said that only +townspeople had immortal souls, and it was only in the city that +the flame of divinity breathed into the first men had any unobscured +glow. The countryside in Ireland could blossom into as much beauty +as the hillsides in mediaeval Italy if we could but get rid of our +self-mistrust. We have all that any race ever had to inspire them, +the heavens overhead, the earth underneath, and the breath of life +in our nostrils. I would like to exile the man who would set limits +to what we can do, who would take the crown and sceptre from the +human will and say, marking out some petty enterprise as the limit-- +"Thus far can we go and no farther, and here shall our life be stayed." +Therefore I hate to hear of stagnant societies who think because they +have made butter well that they have crowned their parochial +generation with a halo of glory, and can rest content with the +fame of it all, listening to the whirr of the steam separators and +pouching in peace of mind the extra penny a gallon for their milk. +And I dislike the little groups who meet a couple of times a year +and call themselves co-operators because they have got their +fertilizers more cheaply, and have done nothing else. Why, the +village gombeen man has done more than that! He has at least +brought most of the necessaries of life there by his activities; +and I say if we co-operators do not aim at doing more than the +Irish Scribes and Pharisees we shall have little to be proud of. +A poet, interpreting the words of Christ to His followers, who had +scorned the followers of the old order, made Him say: + + Scorn ye their hopes, their tears, their inward prayers? + I say unto you, see that your souls live + A deeper life than theirs. + +The co-operative movement is delivering over the shaping of the +rural life of Ireland, and the building up of its rural civilization, +into the hands of Irish farmers. The old order of things has left +Ireland unlovely. But if we do not passionately strive to build +it better, better for the men, for the women, for the children, of +what worth are we? We continually come across the phrase "the +dull Saxon" in our Irish papers, it crops up in the speeches of +our public orators, but it was an English poet who said: + + I will not cease from mental fight, + Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand + Till we have built Jerusalem + In England's green and pleasant land. + +And it was the last great, poet England has produced, who had so +much hope for humanity in his country that in his latest song he +could mix earth with heaven, and say that to human eyes: + + Shall shine the traffic of Jacob's ladder + Hung betwixt Heaven and Charing Cross. + +Shall we think more meanly of the future of Ireland than these "dull +Saxons" think of the future of their island? Shall we be content +with humble crumbs fallen from the table of life, and sit like +beggars waiting only for what the commonwealth can do for us, +leaving all high hopes and aims to our rulers, whether they be +English or Irish? Every people get the kind of Government they +deserve. A nation can exhibit no greater political wisdom in the +mass than it generates in its units. It is the pregnant idealism +of the multitude which gives power to the makers of great nations, +otherwise the prophets of civilization are helpless as preachers +in the desert and solitary places. So I have always preached +self-help above all other kinds of help, knowing that if we strove +passionately after this righteousness all other kinds of help would +be at our service. So, too, I would brush aside the officious +interferer in co-operative affairs, who would offer on behalf of +the State to do for us what we should, and could, do far better +ourselves. We can build up a rural civilization in Ireland, +shaping it to our hearts' desires, warming it with life, but our +rulers and officials can never be warmer than a stepfather, and +have no "large, divine, and comfortable words" for us; they tinker +at the body when it is the soul which requires to be healed and +made whole. The soul of Ireland has to be kindled, and it can be +kindled only by the thought of great deeds and not by the hope of +petty parsimonies or petty gains. + +Now, great deeds are never done vicariously. They are done directly +and personally. No country has grown to greatness mainly by the +acts of some great ruler, but by the aggregate activities of all +its people. Therefore, every Irish community should make its own +ideals and should work for them. As great work can be done in a +parish as in the legislative assemblies with a nation at gaze. Do +people say: "It is easier to work well with a nation at gaze?" I +answer that true greatness becomes the North Pole of humanity, and +when it appears all the needles of Being point to it. You of the +young generation, who have not yet lost the generous ardour of youth, +believe it is as possible to do great work and make noble sacrifices, +and to roll the acceptable smoke of offering to Heaven by your work +in an Irish parish, as in any city in the world. Like the Greek +architects--who saw in their dreams hills crowned with white marble +pillared palaces and images of beauty, until these rose up in +actuality--so should you, not forgetting national ideals, still +most of all set before yourselves the ideal of your own neighborhood. +How can you speak of working for all Ireland, which you have not +seen, if you do not labor and dream for the Ireland before your eyes, +which you see as you look out of your own door in the morning, and +on which you walk up and down through the day? + +"What dream shall we dream or what labor shall we undertake?" you +may ask, and it is right that those who exhort should be asked in +what manner and how precisely they would have the listener act or +think. I answer: the first thing to do is to create and realize +the feeling for the community, and break up the evil and petty +isolation of man from man. This can be done by every kind of +co-operative effort where combined action is better than individual +action. The parish cannot take care of the child as well as the +parents, but you will find in most of the labors of life combined +action is more fruitful than individual action. Some of you have +found this out in many branches of agriculture, of which your +dairying, agricultural, credit, poultry, and flax societies are +witness. Some of you have combined to manufacture; some to buy +in common, some to sell in common. Some of you have the common +ownership of thousands of pounds' worth of expensive machinery. +Some of you have carried the idea of co-operation for economic ends +farther, and have used the power which combination gives you to +erect village halls and to have libraries of books, the windows +through which the life and wonder and power of humanity can be seen. +Some of you have light-heartedly, in the growing sympathy of unity, +revived the dances and songs and sports which are the right +relaxation of labor. Some Irishwomen here and there have heard +beyond the four walls in which so much of their lives are spent +the music of a new day, and have started out to help and inspire +the men and be good comrades to them; and calling themselves +United Irish-women, they have joined, as men have joined, to help +their sisters who are in economic servitude, or who suffer from +the ignorance and indifference to their special needs in life which +pervade the administration of local government. We cannot build +up a rural civilization in Ireland without the aid of Irish women. +It will help life little if we have methods of the twentieth +century in the fields, and those of the fifth century in the home. +A great writer said: "Woman is the last thing man will civilize." +If a woman had written on that subject she would have said: "Woman +is the last thing a man thinks about when he is building up his +empires." It is true that the consciousness of woman has been +always centered too close to the dark and obscure roots of the +Tree of Life, while men have branched out more to the sun an wind, +and today the starved soul of womanhood is crying out over the +world for an intellectual life and for more chance of earning a +living. If Ireland will not listen to this cry, its daughters will +go on slipping silently away to other countries, as they have been +doing--all the best of them, all the bravest, all those most mentally +alive, all those who would have made the best wives and the best +mothers--and they will leave at home the timid, the stupid and the +dull to help in the deterioration of the race and to breed sons as +sluggish as themselves. In the New World women have taken an +important part in the work of the National Grange, the greatest +agency in bettering the economic and social conditions of the +agricultural population in the States. In Ireland the women must +be welcomed into the work of building up a rural civilization, and +be aided by men in the promotion of those industries with which +women have been immemorially associated. We should not want to +see women separated from the activities and ideals and inspirations +of men. We should want to see them working together and in harmony. +If the women carry on their work in connection with the associations +by which men earn their living they will have a greater certainty +of permanence. I have seen too many little industries and little +associations of women workers spring up and perish in Ireland, +which depended on the efforts of some one person who had not drunk +of the elixir of immortal youth, and could not always continue the +work she started; and I have come to the conclusion that the +women's organizations must be connected with the men's organizations, +must use their premises, village halls, and rooms for women's meetings. +I do not believe women's work can be promoted so well in any other way. +Men and women have been companions in the world from the dawn of time. +I do not know where they are journeying to, but I believe they will +never get to the Delectable City if they journey apart from each +other, and do not share each other's burdens. + +Working so, we create the conditions in which the spirit of the +community grows strong. We create the true communal idea, which +the Socialists miss in their dream of a vast amalgamation of whole +nationalities in one great commercial undertaking. The true idea +of the clan or commune or tribe is to have in it as many people as +will give it strength and importance, and so few people that a +personal tie may be established between them. Humanity has always +grouped itself instinctively in this way. It did so in the ancient +clans and rural communes, and it does so in the parishes and +co-operative associations. If they were larger they would lose +the sense of unity. If they were smaller they would be too feeble +for effectual work, and could not take over the affairs of their +district. A rural commune or co-operative community ought to have, +to a large extent, the character of a nation. It should manufacture +for its members all things which it profitably can manufacture for +them, employing its own workmen, carpenters, bootmakers, makers and +menders of farming equipment, saddlery, harness, etc. It should +aim at feeding its members and their families cheaply and well, as +far as possible, out of the meat and grain produced in the district. +It should have a mill to grind their grain, a creamery to manufacture +their butter; or where certain enterprises like a bacon factory +are too great for it, it should unite with other co-operative +communities to furnish out such an enterprise. It should sell for +the members their produce, and buy for them their requirements, +and hold for them labor-saving machinery. It should put aside a +certain portion of its profits every year for the creation of halls, +libraries, places for recreation and games, and it should pursue +this plan steadily with the purpose of giving its members every +social and educational advantage which the civilization of their +time affords. It should have its councils or village parliaments, +where improvements and new ventures could be discussed. Such a +community would soon generate a passionate devotion to its own +ideals and interests among the members, who would feel how their +fortunes rose with the fortunes of the associations of which they +were all members. It would kindle and quicken the intellect of +every person in the community. It would create the atmosphere in +which national genius would emerge and find opportunities for its +activity. The clan ought to be the antechamber of the nation and +the training ground for its statesmen. What opportunity leadership +in the councils of such a rural community would give to the best +minds! The man of social genius at present finds an unorganized +community, and he does not know how to affect his fellow-citizens. +A man might easily despair of affecting the destinies of a nation +of forty million people, but yet start with eagerness to build up +a kingdom of the size of Sligo, and shape it nearer to the heart's +desire. The organization of the rural population of Ireland in +co-operative associations will provide the instrument ready to the +hand of the social reformer. + +Some associations will be more dowered with ability than others, +but one will learn from another, and a vast network of living, +progressive organizations will cover rural Ireland, democratic in +constitution and governed by the aristocracy of intellect and character. + +Such associations would have great economic advantages in that they +would be self-reliant and self-contained, and would be less subject +to fluctuation in their prosperity brought about by national +disasters and commercial crises than the present unorganized rural +communities are. They would have all their business under local +control; and, aiming at feeding, clothing, and manufacturing +locally from local resources as far as possible, the slumps in +foreign trade, the shortage in supplies, the dislocations of commerce +would affect them but little. They would make the community wealthier. +Every step towards this organization already taken in Ireland has +brought with it increased prosperity, and the towns benefit by +increased purchasing power on the part of these rural associations. +New arts and industries would spring up under the aegis of the local +associations. Here we should find the weaving of rugs, there the +manufacture of toys, elsewhere the women would be engaged in +embroidery or lace-making, and, perhaps, everywhere we might get a +revival of the old local industry of weaving homespuns. We are +dreaming of nothing impossible, nothing which has not been done +somewhere already, nothing which we could not do here in Ireland. +True, it cannot be done all at once, but if we get the idea clearly +in our minds of the building up of a rural civilization in Ireland, +we can labor at it with the grand persistence of medieval burghers +in their little towns, where one generation laid down the foundations +of a great cathedral, and saw only in hope and faith the gorgeous +glooms over altar and sanctuary, and the blaze and flame of stained +glass, where apostles, prophets, and angelic presences were pictured +in fire: and the next generation raised high the walls, and only +the third generation saw the realization of what their grandsires +had dreamed. We in Ireland should not live only from day to day, +for the day only, like the beasts in the field, but should think +of where all this long cavalcade of the Gael is tending, and how +and in what manner their tents will be pitched in the evening of +their generation. A national purpose is the most unconquerable +and victorious of all things on earth. It can raise up Babylons +from the sands of the desert, and make imperial civilizations spring +from out a score of huts, and after it has wrought its will it can +leave monuments that seem as everlasting a portion of nature as +the rocks. The Pyramids and the Sphinx in the sands of Egypt have +seemed to humanity for centuries as much a portion of nature as +Erigal, or Benbulben, or Slieve Gullion have seemed a portion of +nature to our eyes in Ireland. + +We must have some purpose or plan in building up an Irish +civilization. No artist takes up his paints and brushes and begins +to work on his canvas without a clear idea burning in his brain of +what he has to do, else were his work all smudges. Does anyone +think that out of all these little cabins and farmhouses dotting +the green of Ireland there will come harmonious effort to a common +end without organization and set purpose? The idea and plan of a +great rural civilization must shine like a burning lamp in the +imagination of the youth of Ireland, or we shall only be at cross- +purposes and end in little fatuities. We are very fond in Ireland +of talking of Ireland a nation. The word "nation" has a kind of +satisfying sound, but I am afraid it is an empty word with no rich +significance to most who use it. The word "laboratory" has as fine +a sound, but only the practical scientist has a true conception of +what may take place there, what roar of strange forces, what mingling +of subtle elements, what mystery and magnificence in atomic life. +The word without the idea is like the purse without the coin, the +skull without the soul, or any other sham or empty deceit. Nations +are not built up by the repetition of words, but by the organizing +of intellectual forces. If any of my readers would like to know +what kind of thought goes to the building up of a great nation, +let him read the life of Alexander Hamilton by Oliver. To that +extraordinary man the United States owe their constitution, almost +their existence. To him, far more than to Washington, the idea, +plan, shape of all that marvelous dominion owes its origin and +character. He seemed to hold in his brain, while America was yet +a group of half-barbaric settlements, the idea of what it might +become. He laid down the plans, the constitution, the foreign policy, +the trade policy, the relation of State to State, and it is only +within the last few years almost, that America has realized that she +had in Hamilton a supreme political and social intelligence, the +true fountain-head of what she has since become. + +We have not half a continent to deal with, but size matters nothing. +The Russian Empire, which covers half Europe, and stretches over +the Ural Mountains to the Pacific, would weigh light as a feather +in the balance if we compare its services to humanity with those +of the little State of Attica, which was no larger than Tipperary. +Every State which has come to command the admiration of the world +has had clearly conceived ideals which it realized before it went +the way which all empires, even the greatest, must go; becoming +finally a legend, a fable, or a symbol. We have to lay down the +foundations of a new social order in Ireland, and, if the +possibilities of it are realized, our thousand years of sorrow +and darkness may be followed by as long a cycle of happy effort +and ever-growing prosperity. We shall want all these plans whether +we are ruled from Westminster or College Green. Without an +imaginative conception of what kind of civilization we wish to +create, the best government from either quarter will never avail +to lift us beyond national mediocrity. I write for those who have +joined the ranks of the co-operators without perhaps realizing all +that the movement meant, or all that it tended to. Because we hold +in our hearts and keep holy there the vision of a great future, I +have fought passionately for the entire freedom of our movement +from external control, lest the meddling of politicians or official +persons without any inspiration should deflect, for some petty +purpose or official gratification, the strength of that current +which was flowing and gathering strength unto the realization of +great ideals. Every country has its proportion of little souls +which could find ample room on a threepenny bit, and be majestically +housed in a thimble, who follow out some little minute practice in +an ecstasy of self-satisfaction, seeking some little job which is +the El Dorado of their desires as if there were naught else, as if +humanity were not going from the Great Deep to the Great Deep of +Deity, with wind and water, fire and earth, stars and sun, lordly +companions for it on its path to a divine destiny. We have our +share of these in Ireland in high and low places, but I do not +write for them. This essay is for those who are working at laying +deep the foundations of a new social order, to hearten them with +some thought of what their labor may bring to Ireland. I welcome +to this work the United Irishwomen. As one of their poetesses +has said in a beautiful song, the services of women to Ireland in +the past have been the services of mourners to the stricken. But +for today and tomorrow we need hope and courage and gaiety, and I +repeat for them the last passionate words of her verse: + + Rise to your feet, O daughters, rise, + Our mother still is young and fair. + Let the world look into your eyes + And see her beauty shining there. + Grant of that beauty but one ray, + Heroes shall leap from every hill; + Today shall be as yesterday, + The red blood burns in Ireland still. + + + + + +THOUGHTS FOR A CONVENTION + + +1. There are moments in history when by the urgency of circumstance +everyone in a country is drawn from normal pursuits to consider +the affairs of the nation. The merchant is turned from his warehouse, +the bookman from his books, the farmer from his fields, because +they realize that the very foundations of the society, under whose +shelter they were able to carry on their avocation, are being shaken, +and they can no longer be voiceless, or leave it to deputies, +unadvised by them, to arrange national destinies. We are all +accustomed to endure the annoyances and irritations caused by +legislation which is not agreeable to us, and solace ourselves by +remembering that the things which really matter are not affected. +But when the destiny of a nation, the principles by which life is +to be guided are at stake, all are on a level, are equally affected +and are bound to give expression to their opinions. Ireland is in +one of these moments of history. Circumstances with which we are +all familiar and the fever in which the world exists have infected +it, and it is like molten metal the skilled political artificer +might pour into a desirable mould. But if it is not handled rightly, +if any factor is ignored, there may be an explosion which would bring +on us a fate as tragic as anything in our past history. Irishmen +can no longer afford to remain aloof from each other, or to address +each other distantly and defiantly from press or platform, but must +strive to understand each other truly, and to give due weight to +each other's opinions, and, if possible, arrive at a compromise, a +balancing of their diversities, which may save our country from +anarchy and chaos for generations to come. + +2. An agreement about Irish Government must be an agreement, not +between two but three Irish parties first of all, and afterwards +with Great Britain. The Premier of a Coalition Cabinet has declared +that there is no measure of self government which Great Britain +would not assent to being set up in Ireland, if Irishmen themselves +could but come to an agreement. Before such a compromise between +Irish parties is possible there must be a clear understanding of +the ideals of these parties, as they are understood by themselves, +and not as they are presented in party controversy by special +pleaders whose object too often is to pervert or discredit the +principles and actions of opponents, a thing which is easy to do +because all parties, even the noblest, have followers who do them +disservice by ignorant advocacy or excited action. If we are to +unite Ireland we can only do so by recognizing what truly are the +principles each party stands for, and will not forsake, and for which, +if necessary they will risk life. True understanding is to see ideas +as they are held by men between themselves and Heaven; and in this +mood I will try, first of all, to understand the position of Unionists, +Sinn Feiners and Constitutional Nationalists as they have been +explained to me by the best minds among them, those who have induced +others of their countrymen to accept those ideals. When this is done +we will see if compromise, a balancing of diversities be not possible +in an Irish State where all that is essential in these varied ideals +may be harmonized and retained. + +3. I will take first of all the position of Unionists. They are, +many of them, the descendants of settlers who by their entrance +into Ireland broke up the Gaelic uniformity and introduced the speech, +the thoughts, characteristic of another race. While they have grown +to love their country as much as any of Gaelic origin, and their +peculiarities have been modified by centuries of life in Ireland +and by intermarriage, so that they are much more akin to their +fellow-countrymen in mind and manner than they are to any other +people, they still retain habits, beliefs and traditions from which +they will not part. They form a class economically powerful. They +have openness and energy of character, great organizing power and +a mastery over materials, all qualities invaluable in an Irish State. +In North-East Ulster, where they are most homogeneous they conduct +the affairs of their cities with great efficiency, carrying on an +international trade not only with Great Britain but with the rest +of the world. They have made these industries famous. They +believe that their prosperity is in large measure due to their +acceptance of the Union, that it would be lessened if they threw +in their lot with the other Ireland and accepted its ideals, that +business which now goes to their shipyards and factories would +cease if they were absorbed in a self-governing Ireland whose +spokesmen had an unfortunate habit of nagging their neighbors and +of conveying the impression that they are inspired by race hatred. +They believe that an Irish legislature would be controlled by a +majority, representatives mainly of small farmers, men who had no +knowledge of affairs, or of the peculiar needs of Ulster industry, +or the intricacy of the problems involved in carrying on an +international trade; that the religious ideas of the majority +would be so favored in education and government that the favoritism +would amount to religious oppression. They are also convinced +that no small country in the present state of the world can really +be independent, that such only exist by sufferance of their mighty +neighbors, and must be subservient in trade policy and military +policy to retain even a nominal freedom; and that an independent +Ireland would by its position be a focus for the intrigues of +powers hostile to Great Britain, and if it achieved independence +Great Britain in self protection would be forced to conquer it +again. They consider that security for industry and freedom for +the individual can best be preserved in Ireland by the maintenance +of the Union, and that the world spirit is with the great empires. + +4. The second political group may be described as the spiritual +inheritors of the more ancient race in Ireland. They regard the +preservation of their nationality as a sacred charge, themselves +as a conquered people owing no allegiance to the dominant race. +They cannot be called traitors to it because neither they nor their +predecessors have ever admitted the right of another people to +govern them against their will. They are inspired by an ancient +history, a literature stretching beyond the Christian era, a national +culture and distinct national ideals which they desire to manifest +in a civilization which shall not be an echo or imitation of any +other. While they do not depreciate the worth of English culture +or its political system they are as angry at its being imposed on +them as a young man with a passion for art would be if his guardian +insisted on his adopting another profession and denied him any +chance of manifesting his own genius. Few hatreds equal those +caused by the denial or obstruction of national aptitudes. Many +of those who fought in the last Irish insurrection were fighters +not merely for a political change but were rather desperate and +despairing champions of a culture which they held was being stifled +from infancy in Irish children in the schools of the nation. They +believe that the national genius cannot manifest itself in a +civilization and is not allowed to manifest itself while the Union +persists. They wish Ireland to be as much itself as Japan, and as +free to make its own choice of political principles, its culture +and social order, and to develop its industries unfettered by the +trade policy of their neighbors. Their mood is unconquerable, and +while often overcome it has emerged again and again in Irish history, +and it has perhaps more adherents today than at any period since +the Act of Union, and this has been helped on by the incarnation +of the Gaelic spirit in the modem Anglo-Irish literature, and a +host of brilliant poets, dramatists and prose writers who have won +international recognition, and have increased the dignity of spirit +and the self-respect of the followers of this tradition. They +assert that the Union kills the soul of the people; that empires +do not permit the intensive cultivation of human life: that they +destroy the richness and variety of existence by the extinction +of peculiar and unique gifts, and the substitution therefor of a +culture which has its value mainly for the people who created it, +but is as alien to our race as the mood of the scientist is to +the artist or poet. + +5. The third group occupies a middle position between those who +desire the perfecting of the Union and those whose claim is for +complete independence: and because they occupy a middle position, +and have taken coloring from the extremes between which they exist +they have been exposed to the charge of insincerity, which is unjust +so far as the best minds among them are concerned. They have aimed +at a middle course, not going far enough on one side or another to +secure the confidence of the extremists. They have sought to +maintain the connection with the empire, and at the same time to +acquire an Irish control over administration and legislation. They +have been more practical than ideal, and to their credit must be +placed the organizing of the movements which secured most of the +reforms in Ireland since the Union, such as religious equality, +the acts securing to farmers fair rents and fixity of tenure, the +wise and salutary measures making possible the transfer of land +from landlord to tenant, facilities for education at popular +universities, the laborers' acts and many others. They are a +practical party taking what they could get, and because they could +show ostensible results they have had a greater following in +Ireland than any other party. This is natural because the average +man in all countries is a realist. But this reliance on material +results to secure support meant that they must always show results, +or the minds of their countrymen veered to those ultimates and +fundamentals which await settlement here as they do in all +civilizations. As in the race with Atalanta the golden apples +had to be thrown in order to win the race. The intellect of +Ireland is now fixed on fundamentals, and the compromise this middle +party is able to offer does not make provision for the ideals of +either of the extremists, and indeed meets little favor anywhere +in a country excited by recent events in world history, where +revolutionary changes are expected and a settlement far more in +accord with fundamental principles. + +6. It is possible that many of the rank and file of these parties +will not at first agree with the portraits painted of their opponents, +and that is because the special pleaders of the press, who in Ireland +are, as a rule, allowed little freedom to state private convictions, +have come to regard themselves as barristers paid to conduct a case, +and have acquired the habit of isolating particular events, the +hasty speech or violent action of individuals in localities, and +of exhibiting these as indicating the whole character of the party +attacked. They misrepresent Irishmen to each other. The Ulster +advocates of the Union, for example, are accustomed to hear from +their advisers that the favorite employment of Irish farmers in +the three southern provinces is cattle driving, if not worse. They +are told that Protestants in these provinces live in fear of their +lives, whereas anybody who has knowledge of the true conditions +knows that, so far from being riotous and unbusinesslike, the +farmers in these provinces have developed a net-work of rural +associations, dairies, bacon factories, agricultural and poultry +societies, etc., doing their business efficiently, applying the +teachings of science in their factories, competing in quality of +output with the very best of the same class of society in Ulster +and obtaining as good prices in the same market. As a matter of +fact this method of organization now largely adopted by Ulster +farmers was initiated in the South. With regard to the charge of +intolerance I do not believe it. Here, as in all other countries, +there are unfortunate souls obsessed by dark powers, whose human +malignity takes the form of religious hatreds, but I believe, and +the thousands of Irish Protestants in the Southern Counties will +affirm it as true that they have nothing to complain of in this +respect. I am sure that in this matter of religious tolerance +these provinces can stand favorable comparison with any country +in the world where there are varieties of religions, even with +Great Britain. I would plead with my Ulster compatriots not to +gaze too long or too credulously into that distorting mirror held up +to them, nor be tempted to take individual action as representative +of the mass. How would they like to have the depth or quality of +spiritual life in their great city represented by the scrawlings +and revilings about the head of the Catholic Church to be found +occasionally on the blank walls of Belfast. If the same method of +distortion by selection of facts was carried out there is not a +single city or nation which could not be made to appear baser than +Sodom or Gomorrah and as deserving of their fate. + +7. The Ulster character is better appreciated by Southern Ireland, +and there is little reason to vindicate it against any charges +except the slander that Ulster Unionists do not regard themselves +as Irishmen, and that they have no love for their own country. +Their position is that they are Unionists, not merely because it +is for the good of Great Britain, but because they hold it to be +for the good of Ireland, and it is the Irish argument weighs with +them, and if they were convinced it would be better for Ireland to +be self-governed they would throw in their lot with the rest of +Ireland, which would accept them gladly and greet them as a prodigal +son who had returned, having made, unlike most prodigal sons, a +fortune, and well able to be the wisest adviser in family affairs. +It is necessary to preface what I have to say by way of argument +or remonstrance to Irish parties by words making it clear that I +write without prejudice against any party, and that I do not in +the least underestimate their good qualities or the weight to be +attached to their opinions and ideals. It is the traditional Irish +way, which we have too often forgotten, to notice the good in the +opponent before battling with what is evil. So Maeve, the ancient +Queen of Connacht, looking over the walls of her city of Cruachan +at the Ulster foemen, said of them, "Noble and regal is their +appearance," and her own followers said, "Noble and regal are +those of whom you speak." When we lost the old Irish culture we +lost the tradition of courtesy to each other which lessens the +difficulties of life and makes it possible to conduct controversy +without creating bitter memories. + +8. I desire first to argue with Irish Unionists whether it is accurate +to say of them, as it would appear to be from their spokesmen, that +the principle of nationality cannot be recognized by them or allowed +to take root in the commonwealth of dominions which form the Empire. +Must one culture only exist? Must all citizens have their minds +poured into the same mould, and varieties of gifts and cultural +traditions be extinguished? What would India with its myriad races +say to that theory? What would Canada enclosing in its dominion +and cherishing a French Canadian nation say? Unionists have by +every means in their power discouraged the study of the national +literature of Ireland though it is one of the most ancient in Europe, +though the scholars of France and Germany have founded journals for +its study, and its beauty is being recognized by all who have read it. +It contains the race memory of Ireland, its imaginations and thoughts +for two thousand years. Must that be obliterated? Must national +character be sterilized of all taint of its peculiar beauty? Must +Ireland have no character of its own but be servilely imitative of +its neighbor in all things and be nothing of itself? It is objected +that the study of Irish history, Irish literature and the national +culture generates hostility to the Empire. Is that a true +psychological analysis? Is it not true in all human happenings +that if people are denied what is right and natural they will +instantly assume an attitude of hostility to the power which denies? +The hostility is not inherent in the subject but is evoked by the +denial. I put it to my Unionist compatriots that the ideal is to +aim at a diversity of culture, and the greatest freedom, richness +and variety of thought. The more this richness and variety prevail +in a nation the less likelihood is there of the tyranny of one +culture over the rest. We should aim in Ireland at that freedom +of the ancient Athenians, who, as Pericles said, listened gladly +to the opinions of others and did not turn sour faces on those who +disagreed with them. A culture which is allowed essential freedom +to develop will soon perish if it does not in itself contain the +elements of human worth which make for immortality. The world has +to its sorrow many instances of freak religions which were persecuted +and by natural opposition were perpetuated and hardened in belief. We +should allow the greatest freedom in respect of cultural developments +in Ireland so that the best may triumph by reason of superior beauty +and not because the police are relied upon to maintain one culture +in a dominant position. + +9. I have also an argument to address to the extremists whose claim, +uttered lately with more openness and vehemence, is for the complete +independence of the whole of Ireland, who cry out against partition, +who will not have a square mile of Irish soil subject to foreign +rule. That implies they desire the inclusion of Ulster and the +inhabitants of Ulster in their Irish State. I tell them frankly +that if they expect Ulster to throw its lot in with a self-governing +Ireland they must remain within the commonwealth of dominions which +constitute the Empire, be prepared loyally, once Ireland has +complete control over its internal affairs, to accept the status +of a dominion and the responsibilities of that wider union. If +they will not accept that status as the Boers did, they will never +draw that important and powerful Irish party into an Irish State +except by force, and do they think there is any possibility of that? +It is extremely doubtful whether if the world stood aloof, and +allowed Irishmen to fight out their own quarrels among themselves, +that the fighters for complete independence could conquer a community +so numerous, so determined, so wealthy, so much more capable of +providing for themselves the plentiful munitions by which alone one +army can hope to conquer another. In South Africa men who had +fiercer traditional hostilities than Irishmen of different parties +here have had, who belonged to different races, who had a few years +before been engaged in a racial war, were great enough to rise above +these past antagonisms, to make an agreement and abide faithfully +by it. Is the same magnanimity not possible in Ireland? I say to +my countrymen who cry out for the complete separation of Ireland +from the Empire, that they will not in this generation bring with +them the most powerful and wealthy, if not the most numerous, party +in their country. Complete control of Irish affairs is a possibility, +and I suggest to the extremists that the status of a self-governing +dominion inside a federation of dominions is a proposal which, if +other safeguards for minority interests are incorporated, would +attract Unionist attention. But if these men who depend so much +in their economic enterprises upon a friendly relation with their +largest customers are to be allured into self-governing Ireland +there must be acceptance of the Empire as an essential condition. +The Boers found it not impossible to accept this status for the +sake of a United South Africa. Are our Irish Boers not prepared +to make a compromise and abide by it loyally for the sake of a +United Ireland? + +10. A remonstrance must also be addressed to the middle party in +that it has made no real effort to understand and conciliate the +feelings of Irish Unionists. They have indeed made promises, no +doubt sincerely, but they have undone the effect of all they said +by encouraging of recent years the growth of sectarian organizations +with political aims and have relied on these as on a party machine. +It may be said that in Ulster a similar organization, sectarian +with political objects, has long existed, and that this justified +a counter organization. Both in my opinion are unjustifiable and +evil, but the backing of such an organization was specially foolish +in the case of the majority, whose main object ought to be to allure +the minority into the same political fold. The baser elements in +society, the intriguers, the job seekers, and all who would acquire +by influence what they cannot attain by merit, flock into such +bodies, and create a sinister impression as to their objects and +deliberations. If we are to have national concord among Irishmen +religion must be left to the Churches whose duty it is to promote +it, and be dissevered from party politics, and it should be regarded +as contrary to national idealism to organize men of one religion +into secret societies with political or economic aims. So shall +be left to Caesar the realm which is Caesar's, and it shall not +appear part of the politics of eternity that Michael's sister's +son obtains a particular post beginning at thirty shillings a week. +I am not certain that it should not be an essential condition of +any Irish settlement that all such sectarian organizations should +be disbanded in so far as their objects are political, and remain +solely as friendly societies. It is useless assuring a minority +already suspicious, of the tolerance it may expect from the majority, +if the party machine of the majority is sectarian and semi-secret, +if no one of the religion of the minority can join it. I believe +in spite of the recent growth of sectarian societies that it has +affected but little the general tolerant spirit in Ireland, and +where the evils have appeared they have speedily resulted in the +break up of the organization in the locality. Irishmen individually +as a rule are much nobler in spirit than the political organizations +they belong to. + +11. It is necessary to speak with the utmost frankness and not to +slur over any real difficulty in the way of a settlement. Irish +parties must rise above themselves if they are to bring about an +Irish unity. They appear on the surface irreconcilable, but that, +in my opinion, is because the spokesmen of parties are under the +illusion that they should never indicate in public that they might +possibly abate one jot of the claims of their party. A crowd or +organization is often more extreme than its individual members. I +have spoken to Unionists and Sinn Feiners and find them as reasonable +in private as they are unreasonable in public. I am convinced that +an immense relief would be felt by all Irishmen if a real settlement +of the Irish question could be arrived at, a compromise which would +reconcile them to living under one government, and would at the +same time enable us to live at peace with our neighbors. The +suggestions which follow were the result of discussions between a +group of Unionists, Nationalists and Sinn Feiners, and as they +found it possible to agree upon a compromise it is hoped that the +policy which harmonized their diversities may help to bring about +a similar result in Ireland. + +12. I may now turn to consider the Anglo-Irish problem and to make +specific suggestions for its solution and the character of the +government to be established in Ireland. The factors are triple. +There is first the desire many centuries old of Irish nationalists +for self-government and the political unity of the people: secondly, +there is the problem of the Unionists who require that the self- +governing Ireland they enter shall be friendly to the imperial +connection, and that their religious and economic interests shall +be safeguarded by real and not merely by verbal guarantees; and, +thirdly, there is the position of Great Britain which requires, +reasonably enough, that any self-governing dominion set up alongside +it shall be friendly to the Empire. In this matter Great Britain +has priority of claim to consideration, for it has first proposed +a solution, the Home Rule Act which is on the Statute Book, though +later variants of that have been outlined because of the attitude +of Unionists in North-East Ulster, variants which suggest the +partition of Ireland, the elimination of six counties from the +area controlled by the Irish government. This Act, or the variants +of it offered to Ireland, is the British contribution to the +settlement of the Anglo-Irish problem. + +13. If it is believed that this scheme, or any diminutive of it, +will settle the Anglo-Irish problem, British statesmen and people who +trust them are only preparing for themselves bitter disappointment. +I believe that nothing less than complete self-government has ever +been the object of Irish Nationalism. However ready certain sections +have been to accept installments, no Irish political leader had +authority to pledge his countrymen to ever accept a half measure +as a final settlement of the Irish claim. The Home Rule Act, if +put into operation tomorrow, even if Ulster were cajoled or coerced +into accepting it, would not be regarded by Irish Nationalists as +a final settlement, no matter what may be said at Westminster. +Nowhere in Ireland has it been accepted as final. Received without +enthusiasm at first, every year which has passed since the Bill +was introduced has seen the system of self-government formulated +there subjected to more acute and hostile criticism: and I believe +it would be perfectly accurate to say that its passing tomorrow +would only be the preliminary for another agitation, made fiercer +by the unrest of the world, where revolutions and the upsetting of +dynasties are in the air, and where the claims of nationalities no +more ancient than the Irish, like the Poles, the Finns, and the Arabs, +to political freedom are admitted by the spokesmen of the great +powers, Great Britain included, or are already conceded. If any +partition of Ireland is contemplated this will intensify the +bitterness now existing. I believe it is to the interest of Great +Britain to settle the Anglo-Irish dispute. It has been countered +in many of its policies in America and the Colonies by the vengeful +feelings of Irish exiles. There may yet come a time when the refusal +of the Irish mouse to gnaw at a net spread about the lion may bring +about the downfall of the Empire. It cannot be to the interest of +Great Britain to have on its flank some millions of people who, +whenever Great Britain is engaged in a war which threatens its +existence, feel a thrill running through them, as prisoners do +hearing the guns sounding closer of an army which comes, as they +think, to liberate them. Nations denied essential freedom ever +feel like that when the power which dominates them is itself in peril. +Who can doubt but for the creation of Dominion Government in South +Africa that the present war would have found the Boers thirsty for +revenge, and the Home Government incapable of dealing with a distant +people who taxed its resources but a few years previously. I have +no doubt that if Ireland was granted the essential freedom and +wholeness in its political life it desires, its mood also would be +turned. I have no feelings of race hatred, no exultation in thought +of the downfall of any race; but as a close observer of the mood +of millions in Ireland, I feel certain that if their claim is not +met they will brood and scheme and Wait to strike a blow, though +the dream may be handed on from them to their children and their +children's children, yet they will hope, sometime, to give the +last vengeful thrust of enmity at the stricken heart of the Empire. + +14. Any measure which is not a settlement which leaves Ireland +still actively discontented is a waste of effort, and the sooner +English statesmen realize the futility of half measures the better. +A man who claims a debt he believes is due to him, who is offered +half of it in payment, is not going to be conciliated or to be one +iota more friendly, if he knows that the other is able to pay the +full amount and it could be yielded without detriment to the donor. +Ireland will never be content with a system of self-government +which lessens its representation in the Imperial Parliament, and +still retains for that Parliament control over all-important matters +like taxation and trade policy. Whoever controls these controls +the character of an Irish civilization, and the demand of Ireland +is not merely for administrative powers, but the power to fashion +its own national policy, and to build up a civilization of its own +with an economic character in keeping by self-devised and self- +checked efforts. To misunderstand this is to suppose there is no +such thing as national idealism, and that a people will accept +substitutes for the principle of nationality, whereas the past +history of the world and present circumstance in Europe are evidence +that nothing is more unconquerable and immortal than national feeling, +and that it emerges from centuries of alien government, and is ready +at any time to flare out in insurrection. At no period in Irish +history was that sentiment more self-conscious than it is today. + +15. Nationalist Ireland requires that the Home Rule Act should be +radically changed to give Ireland unfettered control over taxation, +customs, excise and trade policy. These powers are at present denied, +and if the Act were in operation, Irish people instead of trying to +make the best of it, would begin at once to use whatever powers +they had as a lever to gain the desired control, and this would +lead to fresh antagonism and a prolonged struggle between the two +countries, and in this last effort Irish Nationalists would have +the support of that wealthy class now Unionist in the three southern +provinces, and also in Ulster if it were included, for they would +then desire as much as Nationalists that, while they live in a self- +governing Ireland, the powers of the Irish government should be +such as would enable it to build up Irish industries by an Irish +trade policy, and to impose taxation in a way to suit Irish conditions. +As the object of British consent to Irish self-government is to +dispose of Irish antagonism nothing is to be gained by passing +measures which will not dispose of it. The practically unanimous +claim of Nationalists as exhibited in the press in Ireland is for +the status and power of economic control possessed by the self- +governing dominions. By this alone will the causes of friction +between the two nations be removed, and a real solidarity of +interest based on a federal union for joint defense of the freedom +and well-being of the federated communities be possible and I have +no doubt it would take place. I do not believe that hatreds remain +for long among people when the causes which created them are removed. +We have seen in Europe and in the dominions the continual reversals +of feeling which have taken place when a sore has been removed. +Antagonisms are replaced by alliances. It is mercifully true of +human nature that it prefers to exercise goodwill to hatred when +it can, and the common sense of the best in Ireland would operate +once there was no longer interference in our internal affairs, to +allay and keep in order these turbulent elements which exist in +every country, but which only become a danger to society when real +grievances based on the violation of true principles of government +are present. + +16. The Union has failed absolutely to conciliate Ireland. Every +generation there have been rebellions and shootings and agitations +of a vehement and exhausting character carried continually to the +point of lawlessness before Irish grievances could be redressed. +A form of government which requires a succession of rebellions to +secure reforms afterwards admitted to be reasonable cannot be a +good form of government. These agitations have inflicted grave +material and moral injury on Ireland. The instability of the +political system has prejudiced natural economic development. +Capital will not be invested in industries where no one is certain +about the future. And because the will of the people was so +passionately set on political freedom an atmosphere of suspicion +gathered around public movements which in other countries would +have been allowed to carry on their beneficent work unhindered by +any party. Here they were continually being forced to declare +themselves either for or against self-government. The long attack +on the movement for the organization of Irish agriculture was an +instance. Men are elected on public bodies not because they are +efficient administrators, but because they can be trusted to pass +resolutions favoring one party or another. This has led to +corruption. Every conceivable rascality in Ireland has hid itself +behind the great names of nation or empire. The least and the most +harmless actions of men engaged in philanthropic or educational +work or social reform are scrutinized and criticized so as to +obstruct good work. If a phrase even suggests the possibility of +a political partiality, or a tendency to anything which might be +construed by the most suspicious scrutineer to indicate a remote +desire to use the work done as an argument either for or against +self-government the man or movement is never allowed to forget it. +Public service becomes intolerable and often impossible under such +conditions, and while the struggle continues this also will continue +to the moral detriment of the people. There are only two forms of +government possible. A people may either be governed by force or +may govern themselves. The dual government of Ireland by two +Parliaments, one sitting in Dublin and one in London, contemplated +in the Home Rule Act, would be impossible and irritating. Whatever +may be said for two bodies each with their spheres of influence +clearly defined, there is nothing to be said for two legislatures +with concurrent powers of legislation and taxation, and with members +from Ireland retained at Westminster to provide some kind of +democratic excuse for the exercise of powers of Irish legislation +and taxation by the Parliament at Westminster. The Irish demand +is that Great Britain shall throw upon our shoulders the full +weight of responsibility for the management of our own affairs, so +that we can only blame ourselves and our political guides and not +Great Britain if we err in our policies. + +17. I have stated what I believe to be sound reasons for the +recognition of the justice of the Irish demand by Great Britain +and I now turn to Ulster, and ask it whether the unstable condition +of things in Ireland does not affect it even more than Great Britain. +If it persists in its present attitude, if it remains out of a self- +governing Ireland, it will not thereby exempt itself from political, +social and economic trouble. Ireland will regard the six Ulster +counties as the French have regarded Alsace-Lorraine, whose hopes +of reconquest turned Europe into an armed camp, with the endless +suspicions, secret treaties, military and naval developments, the +expense of maintaining huge armies, and finally the inevitable war. +So sure as Ulster remains out, so surely will it become a focus +for nationalist designs. I say nothing of the injury to the great +wholesale business carried on from its capital city throughout the +rest of Ireland where the inevitable and logical answer of merchants +in the rest of Ireland to requests for orders will be: "You would +die rather than live in the same political house with us. We will +die rather than trade with you." There will be lamentably and +inevitably a fiercer tone between North and South. Everything +that happens in one quarter will be distorted in the other. Each +will lie about the other. The materials will exist more than before +for civil commotion, and this will be aided by the powerful minority +of Nationalists in the excluded counties working in conjunction +with their allies across the border. Nothing was ever gained in +life by hatred; nothing good ever came of it or could come of it; +and the first and most important of all the commandments of the +spirit that there should be brotherhood between men will be +deliberately broken to the ruin of the spiritual life of Ireland. + +18. So far from Irish Nationalists wishing to oppress Ulster, I +believe that there is hardly any demand which could be made, even +involving democratic injustice to themselves, which would not +willingly be granted if their Ulster compatriots would fling their +lot in with the rest of Ireland and heal the eternal sore. I ask +Ulster what is there that they could not do as efficiently in an +Ireland with the status and economic power of a self-governing +dominion as they do at present. Could they not build their ships +and sell them, manufacture and export their linens? What do they +mean when they say Ulster industries would be taxed? I cannot +imagine any Irish taxation which their wildest dreams imagined so +heavy as the taxation which they will endure as part of the United +Kingdom in future. They will be implicated in all the revolutionary +legislation made inevitable in Great Britain by the recoil on +society of the munition workers and disbanded conscripts. Ireland, +which luckily for itself, has the majority of its population +economically independent as workers on the land, and which, in the +development of agriculture now made necessary as a result of changes +in naval warfare, will be able to absorb without much trouble its +returning workers. Ireland will be much quieter, less revolutionary +and less expensive to govern. I ask what reason is there to suppose +that taxation in a self-governing Ireland would be greater than in +Great Britain after the war, or in what way Ulster industries could +be singled out, or for what evil purpose by an Irish Parliament? It +would be only too anxious rather to develop still further the one +great industrial centre in Ireland; and would, it is my firm +conviction, allow the representatives of Ulster practically to +dictate the industrial policy of Ireland. Has there ever at any +time been the slightest opposition by any Irish Nationalist to +proposals made by Ulster industrialists which would lend color to +such a suspicion? Personally, I think that Ulster without safeguards +of any kind might trust its fellow-countrymen; the weight, the +intelligence, the vigor of character of Ulster people in any case +would enable them to dominate Ireland economically. But I do not +for a moment say that Ulster is not justified in demanding safeguards. +Its leader, speaking at Westminster during one of the debates on the +Home Rule Bill, said scornfully, "We do not fear oppressive +legislation. We know in fact there would be none. What we do fear +is oppressive administration." That I translate to mean that Ulster +feels that the policy of the spoils to the victors would be adopted, +and that jobbery in Nationalist and Catholic interests would be rampant. +There are as many honest Nationalists and Catholics who would object +to this as there are Protestant Unionists, and they would readily +accept as part of any settlement the proposal that all posts which +can rightly be filled by competitive examination shall only be +filled after examination by Irish Civil Service Commissioners, and +that this should include all posts paid for out of public funds +whether directly under the Irish Government or under County Councils, +Urban Councils, Corporations, or Boards of Guardians. Further, +they would allow the Ulster Counties through their members a veto +on any important administrative position where the area of the +official's operation was largely confined to North-East Ulster, if +such posts were of a character which could not rightly be filled +after examination and-must needs be a government appointment. I +have heard the suspicion expressed that Gaelic might be made a +subject compulsory on all candidates, and that this would prejudice +the chances of Ulster candidates desirous of entering the Civil +Service. Nationalist opinion would readily agree that, if marks +were given for Gaelic, an alternative language, such as French or +German, should be allowed the candidate as a matter of choice and +the marks given be of equal value. By such concession jobbery +would be made impossible. The corruption and bribery now prevalent +in local government would be a thing of the past. Nationalists +and Unionists alike would be assured of honest administration and +that merit and efficiency, not membership of some sectarian or +political association, would lead to public service. + +20. If that would not be regarded as adequate protection Nationalists +are ready to consider with friendly minds any other safeguards +proposed either by Ulster or Southern Unionists, though in my opinion +the less there are formal and legal acknowledgments of differences +the better, for it is desirable that Protestant and Catholic, +Unionist and Nationalist should meet and redivide along other lines +than those of religion or past party politics, and it is obvious +that the raising of artificial barriers might perpetuate the present +lines of division. A real settlement is impossible without the +inclusion of the whole province in the Irish State, and apart from +the passionate sentiment existing in Nationalist Ireland for the +unity of the whole country there are strong economic bonds between +Ulster and the three provinces. Further, the exclusion of all or +a large part of Ulster would make the excluded part too predominantly +industrial and the rest of Ireland too exclusively agricultural, +tending to prevent that right balance between rural and urban +industry which all nations should aim at and which makes for a +varied intellectual life, social and political wisdom and a healthy +national being. Though for the sake of obliteration of past +differences I would prefer as little building by legislation of +fences isolating one section of the community from another, still +I am certain that if Ulster, as the price of coming into a self- +governing Ireland, demanded some application of the Swiss Cantonal +system to itself which would give it control over local administration +it could have it; or, again, it could be conceded the powers of +local control vested in the provincial governments in Canada, where +the provincial assemblies have exclusive power to legislate for +themselves in respect of local works, municipal institutions, licenses, +and administration of justice in the province. Further, subject to +certain provisions protecting the interests of different religious +bodies, the provincial assemblies have the exclusive power to make +laws upon education. Would not this give Ulster all the guarantees +for civil and religious liberty it requires? What arguments of +theirs, what fears have they expressed which would not be met by +such control over local administration? I would prefer that the +mind of Ulster should argue its points with the whole of Ireland +and press its ideals upon it without reservation of its wisdom for +itself. But doubtless if Ulster accepted this proposal it would +benefit the rest of Ireland by the model it would set of efficient +administration: and it would, I have no doubt, insert in its +provincial constitution all the safeguards for minorities there +which they would ask should be inserted in any Irish constitution +to protect the interest of their co-religionists in that part of +Ireland where they are in a minority. + +21. I can deal only with fundamentals in this memorandum, because +it is upon fundamentals there are differences of thinking. Once +these are settled it would be comparatively easy to devise the +necessary clauses in an Irish constitution, giving safeguards to +England for the due payment of the advances under the Land Acts, +and the principles upon which an Irish contribution should be made +to the empire for naval and military purposes. It was suggested +by Mr. Lionel Curtis in his "Problems of the Commonwealth," that +assessors might be appointed by the dominions to fix the fair +taxable capacity of each for this purpose. It will be observed +that while I have claimed for Ireland the status of a dominion, I +have referred solely hitherto to the powers of control over trade +policy, customs, excise, taxation and legislation possessed by the +dominions, and have not claimed for Ireland the right to have an +army or a navy of its own. I recognize that the proximity of the +two islands makes it desirable to consolidate the naval power under +the control of the Admiralty. The regular army should remain in +the same way under the War Office which would have the power of +recruiting in Ireland. The Irish Parliament would, I have no doubt, +be willing to raise at its own expense under an Irish Territorial +Council a Territorial Force similar to that of England but not +removable from Ireland. Military conscription could never be +permitted except by Act of the Irish Parliament. It would be a +denial of the first principle of nationality if the power of +conscripting the citizens of the country lay not in the hands of +the National Parliament but was exercised by another nation. + +22. While a self-governing Ireland would contribute money to the +defense of the federated empire, it would not be content that that +money should be spent on dockyards, arsenals, camps, harbors, naval +stations, ship-building and supplies in Great Britain to the almost +complete neglect of Ireland as at present. A large contribution +for such purposes spent outside Ireland would be an economic drain +if not balanced by counter expenditure here. This might be effected +by the training of a portion of the navy and army and the Irish +regiments of the regular army in Ireland, and their equipment, +clothing, supplies, munitions and rations being obtained through +an Irish department. Naval dockyards should be constructed here +and a proportion of ships built in them. Just as surely as there +must be a balance between the imports and exports of a country, so +must there be a balance between the revenue raised in a nation and +the public expenditure on that nation. Irish economic depression +after the Act of Union was due in large measure to absentee +landlordism and the expenditure of Irish revenue outside Ireland +with no proportionate return. This must not be expected to continue +against Irish interests. Ireland, granted the freedom it desires, +would be willing to defend its freedom and the freedom of other +dominions in the commonwealth of nations it belonged to, but it +is not willing to allow millions to be raised in Ireland and spent +outside Ireland. If three or five millions are raised in Ireland +for imperial purposes and spent in Great Britain it simply means +that the vast employment of labor necessitated takes place outside +Ireland: whereas if spent here it would mean the employment of +many thousands of men, the support of their families, and in the +economic chain would follow the support of those who cater for +them in food, clothing, housing, etc. Even with the best will in +the world, to do its share towards its defense of the freedom it +had attained, Ireland could not permit such an economic drain on +its resources. No country could approve of a policy which in its +application means the emigration of thousands of its people every +year while it continued. + +23. I believe even if there were no historical basis for Irish +nationalism that such claims as I have stated would have become +inevitable, because the tendency of humanity as it develops +intellectually and spiritually is to desire more and more freedom, +and to substitute more and more an internal law for the external +law or government, and that the solidarity of empires or nations +will depend not so much upon the close texture of their political +organization or the uniformity of mind so engendered as upon the +freedom allowed and the delight people feel in that freedom. The +more educated a man is the more it is hateful to him to be +constrained and the more impossible does it become for central +governments to provide by regulation for the infinite variety of +desires and cultural developments which spring up everywhere and +are in themselves laudable, and in no way endanger the State. A +recognition of this has already led to much decentralization in +Great Britain itself. And if the claim for more power in the +administration of local affairs was so strongly felt in a homogeneous +country like Great Britain that, through its county council system, +people in districts like Kent or Essex have been permitted control +over education and the purchase of land, and the distribution of it +to small holders, how much more passionately must this desire for +self-control be felt in Ireland where people have a different +national character which has survived all the educational experiments +to change them into the likeness of their neighbors. The battle +which is going on in the world has been stated to be a spiritual +conflict between those who desire greater freedom for the individual +and think that the State exists to preserve that freedom, and those +who believe in the predominance of the state and the complete +subjection of the individual to it and the molding of the individual +mind in its image. This has been stated, and if the first view is +a declaration of ideals sincerely held by Great Britain it would +mean the granting to Ireland, a country which has expressed its +wishes by vaster majorities than were ever polled in any other +country for political changes, the satisfaction of its desires. + +24. The acceptance of the proposals here made would mean sacrifices +for the two extremes in Ireland, and neither party has as yet made +any real sacrifice to meet the other, but each has gone on its own +way. I urge upon them that if the suggestions made here were +accepted both would obtain substantially what they desire, the +Ulster Unionists that safety for their interests and provision +for Ireland's unity with the commonwealth of dominions inside the +empire; the Nationalists that power they desire to create an Irish +civilization by self-devised and self-checked efforts. The +brotherhood of domimons of which they would form one would be +inspired as much by the fresh life and wide democratic outlook +of Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and Canada, as by the +hoarier political wisdom of Great Britain; and military, naval, +foreign and colonial policy must in the future be devised by the +representatives of those dominions sitting in council together +with the representatives of Great Britain. Does not that indicate +a different form of imperialism from that they hold in no friendly +memory? It would not be imperialism in the ancient sense but a +federal union of independent nations to protect national liberties, +which might draw into its union other peoples hitherto unconnected +with it, and so beget a league of nations to make a common +international law prevail. The allegiance would be to common +principles which mankind desire and would not permit the domination +of any one race. We have not only to be good Irishmen but good +citizens of the world, and one is as important as the other, for +earth is more and more forcing on its children a recognition of +their fundamental unity, and that all rise and fall and suffer +together, and that none can escape the infection from their common +humanity. If these ideas emerge from the world conflict and are +accepted as world morality it will be some compensation for the +anguish of learning the lesson. We in Ireland like the rest of +the world must rise above ourselves and our differences if we are +to manifest the genius which is in us, and play a noble part in +world history. + + + + + +THE NEW NATION + + +In that cycle of history which closed in 1914, but which seems now +to the imagination as far sunken behind time as Babylon or Samarcand, +it was customary at the festival of the Incarnation to forego our +enmities for a little and allow freer play to the spiritual in our +being. Since 1914 all things in the world and with us, too, in +Ireland have existed in a welter of hate, but the rhythm of ancient +habit cannot altogether have passed away, and now if at any time, +it should be possible to blow the bugles of Heaven and recall men +to that old allegiance. I do not think it would help now if I, or +another, put forward arguments drawn from Irish history or economics +to convince any party that they were wrong and their opponents right. +I think absolute truth might be stated in respect of these things, +and yet it would affect nothing in our present mood. It would not +be recognized any more than Heaven, when It walked on earth in the +guise of a Carpenter, was hailed by men whose minds were filled by +other imaginations of that coming. + +I will not argue about the past, but would ask Irishmen to consider +how in future they may live together. Do they contemplate the +continuance of these bitter hatreds in our own household? The war +must have a finale. Many thousands of Irishmen will return to their +country who have faced death for other ideals than those which +inspire many more thousands now in Ireland and make them also +fearless of death. How are these to co-exist in the same island +if there is no change of heart? Each will receive passionate support +from relatives, friends, and parties who uphold their action. This +will be a most unhappy country if we cannot arrive at some moral +agreement, as necessary as a political agreement. Partition is no +settlement, because there is no geographical limitation of these +passions. There is scarce a locality in Ireland where antagonisms +do not gather about the thought of Ireland as in the caduceus of +Mercury the twin serpents writhe about the sceptre of the god. I +ask our national extremists in what mood do they propose to meet +those who return, men of temper as stern as their own? Will these +endure being termed traitors to Ireland? Will their friends endure +it? Will those who mourn their dead endure to hear scornful speech +of those they loved? That way is for us a path to Hell. The +unimaginative who see only a majority in their own locality, or, +perhaps, in the nation, do not realize what a powerful factor in +national life are those who differ from them, and how they are +upheld by a neighboring nation which, for all its present travail, +is more powerful by far than Ireland even if its people were united +in purpose as the fingers of one hand. Nor can those who hold to, +and are upheld by, the Empire hope to coerce to a uniformity of +feeling with themselves the millions clinging to Irish nationality. +Seven centuries of repression have left that spirit unshaken, nor +can it be destroyed save by the destruction of the Irish people, +because it springs from biological necessity. As well might a +foolish gardener trust that his apple-tree would bring forth grapes +as to dream that there could be uniformity of character and +civilization between Irishmen and Englishmen. It would be a crime +against life if it could be brought about and diversities of culture +and civilization made impossible. We may live at peace with our +neighbors when it is agreed that we must be different, and no peace +is possible in the world between nations except on this understanding. +But I am not now thinking of that, but of the more urgent problem +how we are to live at peace with each other. I am convinced Irish +enmities are perpetuated because we live by memory more than by hope, +and that even now on the facts of character there is no justification +for these enmities. + +We have been told that there are two nations in Ireland. That +may have been so in the past, but it is not true today. The union +of Norman and Dane and Saxon and Celt which has been going on +through the centuries is now completed, and there is but one powerful +Irish character--not Celtic or Norman-Saxon, but a new race. We +should recognize our moral identity. It was apparent before the +war in the methods by which Ulstermen and Nationalists alike strove +to defend or win their political objects. There is scarce an Ulsterman, +whether he regards his ancestors as settlers or not, who is not +allied through marriage by his forbears to the ancient race. There +is in his veins the blood of the people who existed before Patrick, +and he can look backward through time to the legends of the Red +Branch, the Fianna and the gods as the legends of his people. It +would be as difficult to find even on the Western Coast a family +which has not lost in the same way its Celtic purity of race. The +character of all is fed from many streams which have mingled in +them and have given them a new distinctiveness. The invasions of +Ireland and the Plantations, however morally unjustifiable, however +cruel in method, are justified by biology. The invasion of one +race by another was nature's ancient way of reinvigorating a people. + +Mr. Flinders Petrie, in his "Revolutions of Civilization," has +demonstrated that civilization comes in waves, that races rise to +a pinnacle of power and culture, and decline from that, and fall +into decadence, from which they do not emerge until there has been +a crossing of races, a fresh intermingling of cultures. He showed +in ancient Egypt eight such periods, and after every decline into +decadence there was an invasion, the necessary precedent to a fresh +ascent with reinvigorated energies. I prefer to dwell upon the +final human results of this commingling of races than upon the +tyrannies and conflicts which made it possible. The mixture of +races has added to the elemental force of the Celtic character a +more complex mentality, and has saved us from becoming, as in our +island isolation we might easily have become, thin and weedy, like +herds where there has been too much in-breeding. The modern Irish +are a race built up from many races who have to prove themselves +for the future. Their animosities, based on past history, have +little justification in racial diversity today, for they are a new +people with only superficial cultural and political differences, +but with the same fundamental characteristics. It is hopeless, the +dream held by some that the ancient Celtic character could absorb +the new elements, become dominant once more, and be itself unchanged. +It is equally hopeless to dream the Celtic element could be eliminated. +We are a new people, and not the past, but the future, is to justify +this new nationality. + +I believe it was this powerful Irish character which stirred in +Ulster before the war, leading it to adopt methods unlike the Anglo- +Saxon tradition in politics. I believe that new character, far +more than the spirit of the ancient race, was the ferment in the +blood of those who brought about the astonishing enterprise of +Easter Week. Pearse himself, for all his Gaelic culture, was sired +by one of the race he fought against. He might stand in that +respect as a symbol of the new race which is springing up. We are +slowly realizing the vigor of the modern Irish character just +becoming self-conscious of itself. I had met many men who were in +the enterprise of Easter Week and listened to their spirit their +speech, but they had to prove to myself and others by more than words. +I listened with that half-cynical feeling which is customary with +us when men advocate a cause with which we are temperamentally +sympathetic, but about whose realization we are hopeless. I could +not gauge the strength of the new spirit, for words do not by +themselves convey the quality of power in men; and even when the +reverberations from Easter Week were echoing everywhere in Ireland, +for a time I, and many others, thought and felt about those who +died as some pagan concourse in ancient Italy might have felt +looking down upon an arena, seeing below a foam of glorious faces +turned to them, the noble, undismayed, inflexible faces of martyrs, +and, without understanding, have realized that this spirit was +stronger than death. I believe that capacity for sacrifice, that +devotion to ideals exists equally among the opponents of these men. +It would have been proved in Ireland, in Ulster, if the need had +arisen. It has been proved on many a battlefield of Europe. +Whatever views we may hold about the relative value of national +or Imperial ideals, we may recognize that there is moral equality +where the sacrifice is equal. No one has more to give than life, +and, when that is given, neither Nationalist nor Imperialist in +Ireland can claim moral superiority for the dead champions of +their causes. + +And here I come to the purpose of my letter, which is to deprecate +the scornful repudiation by Irishmen of other Irishmen, which is +so common at present, and which helps to perpetuate our feuds. We +are all one people. We are closer to each other in character than +we are to any other race. The necessary preliminary to political +adjustment is moral adjustment, forgiveness, and mutual understanding. +I have been in council with others of my countrymen for several +months, and I noticed what an obstacle it was to agreement how few, +how very few, there were who had been on terms of friendly intimacy +with men of all parties. There was hardly one who could have given +an impartial account of the ideals and principles of his opponents. +Our political differences have brought about social isolations, and +there can be no understanding where there is no eagerness to meet +those who differ from us, and hear the best they have to say for +themselves. This letter is an appeal to Irishmen to seek out and +understand their political opponents. If they come to know each +other, they will come to trust each other, and will realize their +kinship, and will set their faces to the future together, to build +up a civilization which will justify their nationality. + +I myself am Anglo-Irish, with the blood of both races in me, and +when the rising of Easter Week took place all that was Irish in me +was profoundly stirred, and out of that mood I wrote commemorating +the dead. And then later there rose in memory the faces of others +I knew who loved their country, but had died in other battles. They +fought in those because they believed they would serve Ireland, and +I felt these were no less my people. I could hold them also in my +heart and pay tribute to them. Because it was possible for me to +do so, I think it is possible for others; and in the hope that the +deeds of all may in the future be a matter of pride to the new nation +I append here these verses I have written:-- + +To the Memory of Some I knew Who are Dead and Who Loved Ireland. + + Their dream had left me numb and cold, + But yet my spirit rose in pride, + Refashioning in burnished gold + The images of those who died, + Or were shut in the penal cell. + Here's to you, Pearse, your dream not mine, + But yet the thought, for this you fell, + Has turned life's water into wine. + + You who have died on Eastern hills + Or fields of France as undismayed, + Who lit with interlinked wills + The long heroic barricade, + You, too, in all the dreams you had, + Thought of some thing for Ireland done. + Was it not so, Oh, shining lad, + What lured you, Alan Anderson? + + I listened to high talk from you, + Thomas McDonagh, and it seemed + The words were idle, but they grew + To nobleness by death redeemed. + Life cannot utter words more great + Than life may meet by sacrifice, + High words were equaled by high fate, + You paid the price. You paid the price. + + You who have fought on fields afar, + That other Ireland did you wrong + Who said you shadowed Ireland's star, + Nor gave you laurel wreath nor song. + You proved by death as true as they, + In mightier conflicts played your part, + Equal your sacrifice may weigh, + Dear Kettle, of the generous heart. + + The hope lives on age after age, + Earth with its beauty might be won + For labor as a heritage, + For this has Ireland lost a son. + This hope unto a flame to fan + Men have put life by with a smile, + Here's to you Connolly, my man, + Who cast the last torch on the pile. + + You too, had Ireland in your care, + Who watched o'er pits of blood and mire, + From iron roots leap up in air + Wild forests, magical, of fire; + Yet while the Nuts of Death were shed + Your memory would ever stray + To your own isle. Oh, gallant dead-- + This wreath, Will Redmond, on your clay. + + Here's to you, men I never met, + Yet hope to meet behind the veil, + Thronged on some starry parapet, + That looks down upon Innisfail, + And sees the confluence of dreams + That clashed together in our night, + One river, born from many streams, + Roll in one blaze of blinding light. + +December 1917 + + + + + +THE SPIRITUAL CONFLICT + +Prophetic + + +I am told when a gun is fired it recoils with almost as much force +as urges forward the projectile. It is the triumph of the military +engineer that he anticipates and provides for this recoil when +designing the weapon. Nations prepare for war, but do not, as the +military engineer in his sphere does, provide for the recoil on +society. It is difficult to foresee clearly what will happen. +Possible changes in territory, economic results, the effect on a +social order receive consideration while war is being waged. But +how war may affect our intellectual and spiritual life is not always +apparent. Material victories are often spiritual defeats. History +has record of nationalities which were destroyed and causes whose +followers were overborne, yet they left their ideas behind them as +a glory in the air, and these incarnated anew in the minds of the +conquerors. Ideas are things which can only be conquered by a +greater beauty or intellectual power, and they are never more +powerful than when they do not come threatening us in alliance +with physical forces. I have no doubt there are many today who +watch the cloud over Europe as we may imagine some Israelite of +old gazing on that awful cloudy pillar wherein was the Lord, in +hope or fear for some revelation of the spirit hidden in cloud +and fire. What idea is hidden in the fiery pillar which moves +over Europe? What form will it assume in its manifestation? How +will it exercise dominion over the spirit? Whatever idea is most +powerful in the world must draw to it the intellect and spirit of +humanity, and it will be monarch over their minds either by reason +of their love or hate for it. It is more true to say we must think +of the most powerful than to say we must love the highest, because +even the blind can feel power, while it is rare to have vision of +high things. + +A little over a century ago all the needles of being pointed to +France. A peculiar manifestation of the democratic idea had become +the most powerful thing in the world of moral forces. It went on +multiplying images of itself in men's minds through after generations; +and, because thought, like matter, is subject to the laws of action +and reaction, which indeed is the only safe basis for prophecy, this +idea inevitably found itself opposed by a contrary idea in the world. +Today all the needles of being point to Germany, where the apparition +of the organized State is manifest with every factor, force, and +entity co-ordinated, so that the State might move myriads and yet +have the swift freedom of the athletic individual. The idea that +the State exists for the people is countered by the idea that the +individual exists for the State. France in a violent reaction found +itself dominated by a Caesar. Germany may find itself without a +Caesar, but with a social democracy. + +But, if it does, will the idea Europe is fighting be conquered? Was +the French idea conquered either by the European confederation without +or by Napoleon within? It invaded men's minds everywhere; and in +few countries did the democratic ideas operate more powerfully than +in these islands, where the State was a most determined antagonist +of their material manifestations in France. The German idea has +sufficient power to unite the free minds of half the world against +it. But is it not already invading, and Will it not still more +invade, the minds of rulers? All Governments are august kinsmen +of each other, and discreetly imitate each other in policy where +it may conduce to power or efficiency. The efficiency of the +highly organized State as a vehicle for the manifestation of power +must today be sinking into the minds of those who guide the destinies +of races. The State in these islands, before a year of war has +passed, has already assumed control over myriads of industrial +enterprises. The back-wash of great wars, their reaction within +the national being after prolonged effort, is social disturbance; +and it seems that the State will be unable easily, after this war, +to relax its autocratic power. There may come a time when it would +be possible for it to do so; but the habit of overlordship will +have grown, there will be many who will wish it to grow still more, +and a thousand reasons can be found why the mastery over national +organizations should be relaxed but little. The recoil on society +after the war will be almost as powerful as the energy expended +in conflict; and our political engineers will have to provide for +the recoil. By the analogy of the French Revolution, by what we +see taking place today, it seems safe to prophesy that the State +will become more dominant over the lives of men than ever before. + +In a quarter of a century there will hardly be anybody so obscure, +so isolated in his employment, that he will not, by the development +of the organized State, be turned round to face it and to recognize +it as the most potent factor in his life. From that it follows of +necessity that literature will be concerned more and more with the +shaping of the character of this Great Being. In free democracies, +where the State interferes little with the lives of men, the mood +in literature tends to become personal and subjective; the poets +sing a solitary song about nature, love, twilight, and the stars; +the novelists deal with the lives of private persons, enlarging +individual liberties of action and thought. Few concern themselves +with the character of the State. But when it strides in, an +omnipresent overlord, organizing and directing life and industry, +then the individual imagination must be directed to that collective +life and power. For one writer today concerned with high politics +we may expect to find hundreds engaged in a passionate attempt to +create the new god in their own image. + +This may seem a far-fetched speculation, but not to those who see +how through the centuries humanity has oscillated like a pendulum +betwixt opposing ideals. The greatest reactions have been from +solidarity to liberty and from liberty to solidarity. The religious +solidarity of Europe in the Middle Ages was broken by a passionate +desire in the heart of millions for liberty of thought. A reaction +rarely, if ever, brings people back to a pole deserted centuries +before. The coming solidarity is the domination of the State; and +to speculate whether that again will be broken up by a new religious +movement would be to speculate without utility. What we ought to +realize is that these reactions take place within one being, humanity, +and indicate eternal desires of the soul. They seem to urge on us +the idea that there is a pleroma, or human fullness, in which the +opposites may be reconciled, and that the divine event to which we +are moving is a State in which there will be essential freedom +combined with an organic unity. At the last analysis are not all +empires, nationalities, and movements spiritual in their origin, +beginning with desires of the soul and externalizing themselves in +immense manifestations of energy in which the original will is often +submerged and lost sight of? If in their inception national ideals +are spiritual, their final object must also be spiritual, perhaps +to make man a yet freer agent, but acting out of a continual +consciousness of his unity with humanity. The discipline which +the highly organized State imposes on its subjects connects them +continuously in thought to something greater than themselves, and +so ennobles the average man. The freedom which the policy of other +nations permits quickens intelligence and will. Each policy has +its own defects; with one a loss in individual initiative, with +the other self-absorption and a lower standard of citizenship or +interest in national affairs. The oscillations in society provide +the corrective. + +We are going to have our free individualism tempered by a more +autocratic action by the State. There are signs that with our +enemy the moral power which attracts the free to the source of +their liberty is being appreciated, and the policy which retained +for Britain its Colonies and secured their support in an hour of +peril is contrasted with the policy of the iron hand in Poland. +Neither Germany nor Britain can escape being impressed by the +characteristics of the other in the shock of conflict. It may +seem a paradoxical outcome of the spiritual conflict Mr. Asquith +announced. But history is quick with such ironies. What we +condemned in others is the measure which is meted out to us. Indeed +it might almost be said that all war results in an exchange of +characteristics, and if the element of hatred is strong in the +conflict it will certainly bring a nation to every baseness of the +foe it fights. Love and hate are alike in this, that they change us +into the image we contemplate. We grow nobly like what we adore +through love and ignobly like what we contemplate through hate. It +will be well for us if we remember that all our political ideals are +symbols of spiritual destinies. These clashings of solidarity and +freedom will enrich our spiritual life if we understand of the first +that our thirst for greatness, for the majesty of empire, is a symbol +of our final unity with a greater majesty, and if we remember of +the second that, as an old scripture said, "The universe exists for +the purposes of soul." + +1915 + + + + +ON AN IRISH HILL + + +It has been my dream for many years that I might at some time dwell +in a cabin on the hillside in this dear and living land of ours, +and there I would lay my head in the lap of a serene nature, and +be on friendly terms with the winds and mountains who hold enough +of unexplored mystery and infinitude to engage me at present. I +would not dwell too far from men, for above an enchanted valley, +only a morning's walk from the city, is the mountain of my dream. +Here, between heaven and earth and my brothers, there might come +on me some foretaste of the destiny which the great powers are +shaping for us in this isle, the mingling of God and nature and +man in a being, one, yet infinite in number. Old tradition has it +that there was in our mysterious past such a union, a sympathy +between man and the elements so complete, that at every great deed +of hero or king the three swelling waves of Fohla responded: the +wave of Toth, the wave of Rury, and the long, slow, white, foaming +wave of Cleena. O mysterious kinsmen, would that today some deed +great enough could call forth the thunder of your response once again! +But perhaps he is now rocked in his cradle who will hereafter rock +you into joyous foam. + +The mountain which I praise has not hitherto been considered one +of the sacred places in Eire, no glittering tradition hangs about +it as a lure and indeed I would not have it considered as one in +any special sense apart from its companions, but I take it here +as a type of what any high place in nature may become for us if +well loved; a haunt of deep peace, a spot where the Mother lays +aside veil after veil, until at last the great Spirit seems in +brooding gentleness to be in the boundless fields alone. I am not +inspired by that brotherhood which does not overflow with love +into the being of the elements, not hail in them the same spirit +as that which calls us with so many pathetic and loving voices +from the lives of men. So I build my dream cabin in hope of its +wider intimacy: + + A cabin on the mountain side hid in a grassy nook, + With door and windows open wide, where friendly stars may look; + The rabbit shy can patter in; the winds may enter free + Who throng around the mountain throne in living ecstasy. + And when the sun sets dimmed in eve and purple fills the air, + I think the sacred Hazel Tree is dropping berries there + From starry fruitage waved aloft where Connla's well o'er-flows: + For sure the immortal waters pour through every wind that blows. + I think when night towers up aloft and shakes the trembling dew, + How every high and lonely thought that thrills my being through + Is but a shining berry dropped down through the purple air, + And from the magic tree of life the fruit falls everywhere. + + +The Sacred Hazel was the Celtic branch of the Tree of Life; its +scarlet nuts gave wisdom and inspiration; and fed on this ethereal +fruit, the ancient Gael grew to greatness. Though today none eat +of the fruit or drink the purple flood welling from Connla's fountain, +I think that the fire which still kindles the Celtic races was +flashed into their blood in that magical time, and is our heritage +from the Druidic past. It is still here, the magic and mystery: +it lingers in the heart of a people to whom their neighbors of +another world are frequent visitors in the spirit and over-shadowers +of reverie and imagination. + +The earth here remembers her past, and to bring about its renewal +she whispers with honeyed entreaty and lures with bewitching glamour. +At this mountain I speak of it was that our greatest poet, the last +and most beautiful voice of Eire, first found freedom in song, so +he tells me: and it was the pleading for a return to herself that +this mysterious nature first fluted through his lips: + + Come away, O human child, + To the Woods and waters wild + With a faery hand in hand: + +For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. + +Away! yes, yes; to wander on and on under star-rich skies, ever +getting deeper into the net, the love that will not let us rest, +the peace above the desire of love. The village lights in heaven +and earth, each with their own peculiar hint of home, draw us hither +and thither, where it matters not, so the voice calls and the heart- +light burns. + +Some it leads to the crowded ways; some it draws apart: and the +Light knows, and not any other, the need and the way. + +If you ask me what has the mountain to do with these inspirations, +and whether the singer would not anywhere out of his own soul have +made an equal song, I answer to the latter, I think not. In these +lofty places the barrier between the sphere of light and the sphere +of darkness are fragile, and the continual ecstasy of the high air +communicates itself, and I have also heard from others many tales +of things seen and heard here which show that the races of the Sidhe +are often present. Some have seen below the mountain a blazing +heart of light, others have heard the Musical beating of a heart, +of faery bells, or aerial clashings, and the heart-beings have also +spoken; so it has gathered around itself its own traditions of +spiritual romance and adventures of the soul. + +Let no one call us dreamers when the mind is awake. If we grew +forgetful and felt no more the bitter human struggle--yes. But if +we bring to it the hope and courage of those who are assured of +the nearby presence and encircling love of the great powers? I +would bring to my mountain the weary spirits who are obscured in +the fetid city where life decays into rottenness; and call thither +those who are in doubt, the pitiful and trembling hearts who are +skeptic of any hope, and place them where the dusky vapors of their +thought might dissolve in the inner light, and their doubts vanish +on the mountain top where the earthbreath streams away to the vast, +when the night glows like a seraph, and the spirit is beset by the +evidence of a million of suns to the grandeur of the nature wherein +it lives and whose destiny must be its also. + +After all, is not this longing but a search for ourselves, and +where shall we find ourselves at last? Not in this land nor wrapped +in these garments of an hour, but wearing the robes of space whither +these voices out of the illimitable allure us, now with love, and +anon with beauty or power. In our past the mighty ones came +glittering across the foam of the mystic waters and brought their +warriors away. + +Perhaps, and this also is my hope, they may again return; Manannan, +on his ocean-sweeping boat, a living creature, diamond-winged, or Lu, +bright as the dawn, on his fiery steed, manned with tumultuous flame, +or some hitherto unknown divinity may stand suddenly by me on the +hill, and hold out the Silver Branch with white blossoms from the +Land of Youth, and stay me ere I depart with the sung call as of old: + + Tarry thou yet, late lingerer in the twilight's glory + Gay are the hills with song: earth's faery children leave + More dim abodes to roam the primrose-hearted eve, + Opening their glimmering lips to breathe some wondrous story. + Hush, not a whisper! Let your heart alone go dreaming. + Dream unto dream may pass: deep in the heart alone + Murmurs the Mighty One his solemn undertone. + Canst thou not see adown the silver cloudland streaming + Rivers of faery light, dewdrop on dewdrop falling, + Starfire of silver flames, lighting the dark beneath? + And what enraptured hosts burn on the dusky heath! + Come thou away with them for Heaven to Earth is calling. + These are Earth's voice--her answer--spirits thronging. + Come to the Land of Youth: the trees grown heavy there + Drop on the purple wave the starry fruit they bear. + Drink! the immortal waters quench the spirit's longing. + Art thou not now, bright one, all sorrow past, in elation, + Filled with wild joy, grown brother-hearted with the vast, + Whither thy spirit wending flits the dim stars past + Unto the Light of Lights in burning adoration. + +1896 + + + + + +RELIGION AND LOVE + + +I have often wondered whether there is not something wrong in our +religious systems in that the same ritual, the same doctrines, the +same aspirations are held to be sufficient both for men and women. +The tendency everywhere is to obliterate distinctions, and if a +woman be herself she is looked upon unkindly. She rarely +understands our metaphysics, and she gazes on the expounder of +the mystery of the Logos with enigmatic eyes which reveal the +enchantment of another divinity. The ancients were wiser than we +in this, for they had Aphrodite and Hera and many another form of +the Mighty Mother who bestowed on women their peculiar graces and +powers. Surely no girl in ancient Greece ever sent up to all- +pervading Zeus a prayer that her natural longings might be fulfilled; +but we may be sure that to Aphrodite came many such prayers. The +deities we worship today are too austere for women to approach with +their peculiar desires, and indeed in Ireland the largest number of +our people do not see any necessity for love-making at all, or what +connection spiritual powers have with the affections. A girl, +without repining, will follow her four-legged dowry to the house +of a man she may never have spoken twenty words to before her marriage. +We praise our women for their virtue, but the general acceptance of +the marriage as arranged shows so unemotional, so undesirable a +temperament, that it is not to be wondered at. One wonders was +there temptation. + +What the loss to the race may be it is impossible to say, but it +is true that beautiful civilizations are built up by the desire of +man to give his beloved all her desires. Where there is no beloved, +but only a housekeeper, there are no beautiful fancies to create +the beautiful arts, no spiritual protest against the mean dwelling, +no hunger build the world anew for her sake. Aphrodite is outcast +and with her many of the other immortals have also departed. The +home life in Ireland is probably more squalid than with any other +people equally prosperous in Europe. The children begotten without +love fill more and more the teeming asylums. We are without art; +literature is despised; we have few of those industries which +spring up in other countries in response to the desire of woman to +make gracious influences pervade the home of her partner, a desire +to which man readily yields, and toils to satisfy if he loves truly. +The desire for beauty has come almost to be regarded as dangerous, +if not sinful; and the woman who is still the natural child of the +Great Mother and priestess of the mysteries, if she betray the desire +to exercise her divinely-given powers, if there be enchantment in +her eyes and her laugh, and if she bewilder too many men, is in our +latest code of morals distinctly an evil influence. The spirit, +melted and tortured with love, which does not achieve its earthly +desire, is held to have wasted its strength, and the judgment which +declares the life to be wrecked is equally severe on that which +caused this wild conflagration in the heart. But the end of life +is not comfort but divine being. We do not regard the life which +closed in the martyr's fire as ended ignobly. The spiritual philosophy +which separates human emotions and ideas, and declares some to be +secular and others spiritual, is to blame. There is no meditation +which if prolonged will not bring us to the same world where religion +would carry us, and if a flower in the wall will lead us to all +knowledge, so the understanding of the peculiar nature of one half +of humanity will bring us far on our journey to the sacred deep. I +believe it was this wise understanding which in the ancient world +declared the embodied spirit in man to be influenced more by the +Divine Mind and in woman by the Mighty Mother, by which nature in +its spiritual aspect was understood. In this philosophy, Boundless +Being, when manifested, revealed itself in two forms of life, spirit +and substance; and the endless evolution of its divided rays had +as its root impulse the desire to return to that boundless being. +By many ways blindly or half consciously the individual life strives +to regain its old fullness. The spirit seeks union with nature to +pass from the life of vision into Pure being; and nature, conscious +that its grosser forms are impermanent, is for ever dissolving and +leading its votary to a more distant shrine. "Nature is timid like +a woman," declares an Indian scripture. "She reveals herself shyly +and withdraws again." All this metaphysic will not appear out of +place if we regard women as influenced beyond herself and her conscious +life for spiritual ends. I do not enter a defense of the loveless +coquette, but the woman who has a natural delight in awakening love +in men is priestess of a divinity than which there is none mightier +among the rulers of the heavens. Through her eyes, her laugh, in +all her motions, there is expressed more than she is conscious of +herself. The Mighty Mother through the woman is kindling a symbol +of herself in the spirit, and through that symbol she breathes her +secret life into the heart, so that it is fed from within and is +drawn to herself. We remember that with Dante, the image of a +woman became at last the purified vesture of his spirit through +which the mysteries were revealed. We are for ever making our souls +with effort and pain, and shaping them into images which reveal or +are voiceless according to their degree; and the man whose spirit +has been obsessed by a beauty so long brooded upon that he has +almost become that which he contemplated, owes much to the woman +who may never be his; and if he or the world understood aright, he +has no cause of complaint. It is the essentially irreligious spirit +of Ireland which has come to regard love as an unnecessary emotion +and the mingling of the sexes as dangerous. For it is a curious +thing that while we commonly regard ourselves as the most religious +people in Europe, the reverse is probably true. The country which +has never produced spiritual thinkers or religious teachers of whom +men have heard if we except Berkeley and perhaps the remote Johannes +Scotus Erigena, cannot pride itself on its spiritual achievement; +and it might seem even more paradoxical, but I think it would be +almost equally true, to say that the first spiritual note in our +literature was struck when a poet generally regarded as pagan wrote +it as the aim of his art to reveal-- + + In all poor foolish things that live a day + Eternal beauty wandering on her way. + +The heavens do not declare the glory of God any more than do shining +eyes, nor the firmament show His handiwork more than the woven wind +of hair, for these were wrought with no lesser love than set the +young stars swimming in seas of joyous and primeval air. If we +drink in the beauty of the night or the mountains, it is deemed to +be praise of the Maker, but if we show an equal adoration of the +beauty of man or woman, it is dangerous, it is almost wicked. Of +course it is dangerous; and without danger there is no passage to +eternal things. There is the valley of the shadow beside the +pathway of light, and it always will be there, and the heavens +will never be entered by those who shrink from it. Spirituality +is the power of apprehending formless spiritual essences, of seeing +the eternal in the transitory, and in the things which are seen +the unseen things of which they are the shadow. I call Mr. Yeats' +poetry spiritual when it declares, as in the lines I quoted, that +there is no beauty so trivial that it is not the shadow of the +Eternal Beauty. A country is religious where it is common belief +that all things are instinct with divinity, and where the love +between man and woman is seen as a symbol, the highest we have, of +the union of spirit and nature, and their final blending in the +boundless being. For this reason the lightest desires even, the +lightest graces of women have a philosophical value for what +suggestions they bring us of the divinity behind them. + +As men and women feel themselves more and more to be sharers of +universal aims, they will contemplate in each other and in themselves +that aspect of the boundless being under whose influence they are cast, +and will appeal to it for understanding and power. Time, which is +for ever bringing back the old and renewing it, may yet bring back +to us some counterpart of Aphrodite or Hera as they were understood +by the most profound thinkers of the ancient world; and women may +again have her temples and her mysteries, and renew again her radiant +life at its fountain, and feel that in seeking for beauty she is +growing more into her own ancestral being, and that in its shining +forth she is giving to man, as he may give to her, something of +that completeness of spirit of which it is written, "neither is +the man without the woman nor the woman without the man in the Highest." + +It may seem strange that what is so clear should require statement, +but it is only with a kind of despair the man or woman of religious +mind can contemplate the materialism of our thought about life. It +is not our natural heritage from the past, for the bardic poetry +shows that a heaven lay about us in the mystical childhood of our +race, and a supernatural original was often divined for the great +hero, or the beautiful woman. All this perception has withered away, +for religion has become observance of rule and adherence to doctrine. +The first steps to the goal have been made sufficient in themselves; +but religion is useless unless it has a transforming power, unless +it is able "to turn fishermen into divines," and make the blind see +and the deaf hear. They are no true teachers who cannot rise beyond +the world of sense and darkness and awaken the links within us from +earth to heaven, who cannot see within the heart what are its needs, +and who have not the power to open the poor blind eyes and touch the +ears that have heard no sound of the heavenly harmonies. Our +clergymen do their best to deliver us from what they think is evil, +but do not lead us into the Kingdom. They forget that the faculties +cannot be spiritualized by restraint but in use, and that the +greatest evil of all is not to be able to see the divine everywhere, +in life and love no less than in the solemn architecture of the +spheres. In the free play of the beautiful and natural human +relations lie the greatest possibilities of spiritual development, +for heaven is not prayer nor praise but the fullness of life, which +is only divined through the richness and variety of life on earth. +There is a certain infinitude in the emotions of love, tenderness, +pity, joy, and all that is begotten in love, and this limitless +character of the emotions has never received the philosophical +consideration which is due to it, for even laughter may be considered +solemnly, and gaiety and joy in us are the shadowy echoes of that +joy spoken of the radiant Morning Stars, and there is not an emotion +in man or woman which has not, however perverted and muddied in its +coming, in some way flowed from the first fountain. We are no more +divided from supernature than we are from our own bodies, and where +the life of man or woman is naturally most intense it most naturally +overflows and mingles with the subtler and more lovely world within. +If religion has no word to say upon this it is incomplete, and we +wander in the narrow circle of prayers and praise, wondering all the +while what is it we are praising God for, because we feel so +melancholy and lifeless. Dante had a place in his Inferno for +the joyless souls, and if his conception be true the population +of that circle will be largely modern Irish. A reaction against +this conventional restraint is setting in, and the needs of life +will perhaps in the future no longer be violated as they are today; +and since it is the pent-up flood of the joy which ought to be in +life which is causing this reaction, and since there is a divine +root in it, it is difficult to say where it might not carry us; +I hope into some renewal of ancient conceptions of the fundamental +purpose of womanhood and its relations to Divine Nature, and that +from the temples where woman may be instructed she will come forth, +with strength in her to resist all pleading until the lover worship +in her a divine womanhood, and that through their love the divided +portions of the immortal nature may come together and be one as +before the beginning of worlds. + +1904 + + + + + +THE RENEWAL OF YOUTH + + + I am a part of all that I have met; + Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' + Gleams that untravel'd world ..... + Come, my friends, + 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. + --Ulysses + + +I. + +Humanity is no longer the child it was at the beginning of the world. +The spirit which prompted by some divine intent, flung itself long +ago into a vague, nebulous, drifting nature, though it has endured +through many periods of youth, maturity, and age, has yet had its +own transformations. Its gay, wonderful childhood gave way, as +cycle after cycle coiled itself into slumber, to more definite +purposes, and now it is old and burdened with experiences. It is +not an age that quenches its fire, but it will not renew again the +activities which gave it wisdom. And so it comes that men pause +with a feeling which they translate into weariness of life before +the accustomed joys and purposes of their race. They wonder at +the spell which induced their fathers to plot and execute deeds +which seem to them to have no more meaning than a whirl of dust. +But their fathers had this weariness also and concealed it from +each other in fear, for it meant the laying aside of the sceptre, +the toppling over of empires, the chilling of the household warmth, +and all for a voice whose inner significance revealed itself but +to one or two among myriads. + +The spirit has hardly emerged from the childhood with which nature +clothes it afresh at every new birth, when the disparity between +the garment and the wearer becomes manifest: the little tissue +of joys and dreams woven about it is found inadequate for shelter: +it trembles exposed to the winds blowing out of the unknown. We +linger at twilight with some companion, still glad, contented, and +in tune with the nature which fills the orchards with blossom and +sprays the hedges with dewy blooms. The laughing lips give +utterance to wishes--ours until that moment. Then the spirit, +without warning, suddenly falls into immeasurable age: a sphinx- +like face looks at us: our lips answer, but far from the region +of elemental being we inhabit, they syllable in shadowy sound, out +of old usage, the response, speaking of a love and a hope which +we know have vanished from us for evermore. So hour by hour the +scourge of the infinite drives us out of every nook and corner of +life we find pleasant. And this always takes place when all is +fashioned to our liking: then into our dream strides the wielder +of the lightning: we get glimpses of a world beyond us thronged +with mighty, exultant beings: our own deeds become infinitesimal +to us: the colors of our imagination, once so shining, grow pale +as the living lights of God glow upon them. We find a little honey +in the heart which we make sweeter for some one, and then another +Lover, whose forms are legion, sighs to us out of its multitudinous +being: we know that the old love is gone. There is a sweetness in +song or in the cunning re-imaging of the beauty we see; but the +Magician of the Beautiful whispers to us of his art, how we were +with him when he laid the foundations of the world, and the song +is unfinished, the fingers grow listless. As we receive these +intimations of age our very sins become negative: we are still +pleased if a voice praises us, but we grow lethargic in enterprises +where the spur to activity is fame or the acclamation of men. At +some point in the past we may have struggled mightily for the sweet +incense which men offer to a towering personality; but the infinite +is for ever within man: we sighed for other worlds and found that +to be saluted as victor by men did not mean acceptance by the gods. + +But the placing of an invisible finger upon our lips when we would +speak, the heart-throb of warning where we would love, that we grow +contemptuous of the prizes of life, does not mean that the spirit +has ceased from its labors, that the high-built beauty of the spheres +is to topple mistily into chaos, as a mighty temple in the desert +sinks into the sand, watched only by a few barbarians too feeble +to renew its ancient pomp and the ritual of its once shining +congregations. Before we, who were the bright children of the dawn, +may return as the twilight race into the silence, our purpose must +be achieved, we have to assume mastery over that nature which now +overwhelms us, driving into the Fire-fold the flocks of stars and +wandering fires. Does it seem very vast and far away? Do you sigh +at the long, long time? Or does it appear hopeless to you who +perhaps return with trembling feet evening after evening from a +little labor? But it is behind all these things that the renewal +takes place, when love and grief are dead; when they loosen their +hold on the spirit and it sinks back into itself, looking out on +the pitiful plight of those who, like it, are the weary inheritors +of so great destinies: then a tenderness which is the most profound +quality of its being springs up like the outraying of the dawn, and +if in that mood it would plan or execute it knows no weariness, for +it is nourished from the First Fountain. As for these feeble +children of the once glorious spirits of the dawn, only a vast hope +can arouse them from so vast a despair, for the fire will not +invigorate them for the repetition of petty deeds but only for the +eternal enterprise, the war in heaven, that conflict between Titan +and Zeus which is part of the never-ending struggle of the human +spirit to assert its supremacy over nature. We, who he crushed by +this mountain nature piled above us, must arise again, unite to +storm the heavens and sit on the seats of the mighty. + + + +II. + + +We speak out of too petty a spirit to each other; the true poems, +said Whitman: + + Bring none to his or to her terminus or to be content and full, + Whom they take they take into space to behold the birth of stars, + to learn one of the meanings, + To launch off with absolute faith, to sweep through the ceaseless + rings and never be quiet again. + +Here is inspiration--the voice of the soul. Every word which really +inspires is spoken as if the Golden Age had never passed. The great +teachers ignore the personal identity and speak to the eternal pilgrim. +Too often the form or surface far removed from beauty makes us falter, +and we speak to that form and the soul is not stirred. But an equal +temper arouses it. To whoever hails in it the lover, the hero, the +magician, it will respond, but not to him who accosts it in the name +and style of its outer self. How often do we not long to break +through the veils which divide us from some one, but custom, +convention, or a fear of being misunderstood prevent us, and so +the moment passes whose heat might have burned through every barrier. +Out with it--out with it, the hidden heart, the love that is voiceless, +the secret tender germ of an infinite forgiveness. That speaks to +the heart. That pierces through many a vesture of the Soul. Our +companion struggles in some labyrinth of passion. We help him, we, +think, with ethic and moralities. + +Ah, very well they are; well to know and to keep, but wherefore? +For their own sake? No, but that the King may arise in his beauty. +We write that in letters, in books, but to the face of the fallen +who brings back remembrance? Who calls him by his secret name? +Let a man but feel for what high cause is his battle, for what is +his cyclic labor, and a warrior who is invincible fights for him +and he draws upon divine powers. Our attitude to man and to nature, +expressed or not, has something of the effect of ritual, of evocation. +As our aspiration so is our inspiration. We believe in life universal, +in a brotherhood which links the elements to man, and makes the glow- +worm feel far off something of the rapture of the seraph hosts. Then +we go out into the living world, and what influences pour through us! +We are "at league with the stones of the field." The winds of the +world blow radiantly upon us as in the early time. We feel wrapt +about with love, with an infinite tenderness that caresses us. Alone +in our rooms as we ponder, what sudden abysses of light open within +us! The Gods are so much nearer than we dreamed. We rise up +intoxicated with the thought, and reel out seeking an equal +companionship under the great night and the stars. + +Let us get near to realities. We read too much. We think of that +which is "the goal, the Comforter, the Lord, the Witness, the resting- +place, the asylum, and the Friend." Is it by any of these dear and +familiar names? The soul of the modern mystic is becoming a mere +hoarding-place for uncomely theories. He creates an uncouth symbolism, +and blinds his soul within with names drawn from the Kabala or ancient +Sanskrit, and makes alien to himself the intimate powers of his spirit, +things which in truth are more his than the beatings of his heart. +Could we not speak of them in our own tongue, and the language of +today will be as sacred as any of the past. From the Golden One, +the child of the divine, comes a voice to its shadow. It is stranger +to our world, aloof from our ambitions, with a destiny not here to +be fulfilled. It says: "You are of dust while I am robed in +opalescent airs. You dwell in houses of clay, I in a temple not +made by hands. I will not go with thee, but thou must come with me." +And not alone is the form of the divine aloof but the spirit behind +the form. It is called the Goal truly, but it has no ending. It +is the Comforter, but it waves away our joys and hopes like the +angel with the flaming sword. Though it is the Resting-place, it +stirs to all heroic strife, to outgoing, to conquest. It is the +Friend indeed, but it will not yield to our desires. Is it this +strange, unfathomable self we think to know, and awaken to, by what +is written, or by study of it as so many planes of consciousness? +But in vain we store the upper chambers of the mind with such quaint +furniture of thought. No archangel makes his abode therein. They +abide only in the shining. No wonder that the Gods do not incarnate. +We cannot say we do pay reverence to these awful powers. We repulse +the living truth by our doubts and reasonings. We would compel the +Gods to fall in with our petty philosophy rather than trust in the +heavenly guidance. Ah, to think of it, those dread deities, the +divine Fires, to be so enslaved! We have not comprehended the +meaning of the voice which cried "Prepare ye the way of the Lord," +or this, "Lift up your heads, O ye gates. Be ye lifted up, ye +everlasting doors, and the King of Glory shall come in." Nothing +that we read is useful unless it calls up living things in the soul. +To read a mystic book truly is to invoke the powers. If they do +not rise up plumed and radiant, the apparitions of spiritual things, +then is our labor barren. We only encumber the mind with useless +symbols. They knew better ways long ago. "Master of the Green- +waving Planisphere, . . . Lord of the Azure Expanse, . . . it is +thus we invoke," cried the magicians of old. + +And us, let us invoke them with joy, let us call upon them with +love, the Light we hail, or the Divine Darkness we worship with +silent breath. That silence cries aloud to the Gods. Then they +will approach us. Then we may learn that speech of many colors, +for they will not speak in our mortal tongue; they will not answer +to the names of men. Their names are rainbow glories. Yet these +are mysteries, and they cannot be reasoned out or argued over. We +cannot speak truly of them from report, or description, or from +what another has written. A relation to the thing in itself alone +is our warrant, and this means we must set aside our intellectual +self-sufficiency and await guidance. It will surely come to those +who wait in trust, a glow, a heat in the heart announcing the +awakening of the Fire. And, as it blows with its mystic breath +into the brain, there is a hurtling of visions, a brilliance of +lights, a sound as of great waters vibrant and musical in their +flowing, and murmurs from a single yet multitudinous being. In +such a mood, when the far becomes near, the strange familiar, and +the infinite possible, he wrote from whose words we get the inspiration: + + To launch off with absolute faith, to sweep through the + ceaseless rings + and never be quiet again. + +Such a faith and such an unrest be ours: faith which is mistrust +of the visible; unrest which is full of a hidden surety and reliance. +We, when we fall into pleasant places, rest and dream our strength +away. Before every enterprise and adventure of the soul we calculate +in fear our power to do. But remember, "Oh, disciple, in thy work +for thy brother thou hast many allies; in the winds, in the air, +in all the voices of the silent shore." These are the far-wandered +powers of our own nature, and they turn again home at our need. We +came out of the Great Mother-Life for the purposes of soul. Are +her darlings forgotten where they darkly wander and strive? Never. +Are not the lives of all her heroes proof? Though they seem to +stand alone the eternal Mother keeps watch on them, and voices far +away and unknown to them before arise in passionate defense, and +hearts beat warm to help them. Aye, if we could look within we +would see vast nature stirred on their behalf, and institutions +shaken, until the truth they fight for triumphs, and they pass, and +a wake of glory ever widening behind them trails down the ocean of +the years. + +Thus the warrior within us works, or, if we choose to phrase it so, +it is the action of the spiritual will. Shall we not, then, trust +in it and face the unknown, defiant and fearless of its dangers. +Though we seem to go alone to the high, the lonely, the pure, we +need not despair. Let no one bring to this task the mood of the +martyr or of one who thinks he sacrifices something. Yet let all +who will come. Let them enter the path, facing all things in life +and death with a mood at once gay and reverent, as beseems those +who are immortal--who are children today, but whose hands tomorrow +may grasp the sceptre, sitting down with the Gods as equals and +companions. "What a man thinks, that he is: that is the old secret." +In this self-conception lies the secret of life, the way of escape +and return. We have imagined ourselves into littleness, darkness, +and feebleness. We must imagine ourselves into greatness. "If +thou wilt not equal thyself to God thou canst not understand God. +The like is only intelligible by the like." In some moment of more +complete imagination the thought-born may go forth and look on the +ancient Beauty. So it was in the mysteries long ago, and may well +be today. The poor dead shadow was laid to sleep, forgotten in +its darkness, as the fiery power, mounting from heart to head, went +forth in radiance. Not then did it rest, nor ought we. The dim +worlds dropped behind it, the lights of earth disappeared as it +neared the heights of the immortals. There was One seated on a +throne, One dark and bright with ethereal glory. It arose in greeting. +The radiant figure laid its head against the breast which grew +suddenly golden, and Father and Son vanished in that which has no +place or name. + + + +III. + + + Who are exiles? as for me + Where beneath the diamond dome + Lies the light on hills or tree + There my palace is and home. + +We are outcasts from Deity, therefore we defame the place of our exile. +But who is there may set apart his destiny from the earth which bore +him? I am one of those who would bring back the old reverence for +the Mother, the magic, the love. I think, metaphysician, you have +gone astray. You would seek within yourself for the fountain of life. +Yes, there is the true, the only light. But do not dream it will +lead you farther away from the earth, but rather deeper into its' +heart. By it you are nourished with those living waters you would +drink. You are yet in the womb and unborn, and the Mother breathes +for you the diviner airs. Dart out your farthest ray of thought +to the original, and yet you have not found a new path of your own. +Your ray is still enclosed in the parent ray, and only on the sidereal +streams are you borne to the freedom of the deep, to the sacred stars +whose distance maddens, and to the lonely Light of Lights. + +Let us, therefore, accept the conditions and address ourselves with +wonder, with awe, with love, as we well may, to that being in whom +we move. I abate no jot of those vaster hopes, yet I would pursue +that ardent aspiration, content as to here and today. I do not +believe in a nature red with tooth and claw. If indeed she appears +so terrible to any it is because they themselves have armed her. +Again, behind the anger of the Gods there is a love. Are the rocks +barren? Lay your brow against them and learn what memories they keep. +Is the brown earth unbeautiful? Yet lie on the breast of the Mother +and you shall be aureoled with the dews of faery. The earth is the +entrance to the Halls of Twilight. What emanations are those that +make radiant the dark woods of pine! Round every leaf and tree and +over all the mountains wave the fiery tresses of that hidden sun +which is the soul of the earth and parent of your soul. But we +think of these things no longer. Like the prodigal we have wandered +far from our home, but no more return. We idly pass or wait as +strangers in the halls our spirit built. + + Sad or fain no more to live? + I have pressed the lips of pain + With the kisses lovers give + Ransomed ancient powers again. + +I would raise this shrinking soul to a universal acceptance. What! +does it aspire to the All, and yet deny by its revolt and inner test +the justice of Law? From sorrow we take no less and no more than +from our joys. If the one reveals to the soul the mode by which +the power overflows and fills it here, the other indicates to it +the unalterable will which checks excess and leads it on to true +proportion and its own ancestral ideal. Yet men seem for ever to +fly from their destiny of inevitable beauty; because of delay the +power invites and lures no longer but goes out into the highways +with a hand of iron. We look back cheerfully enough upon those +old trials out of which we have passed; but we have gloaned only +an aftermath of wisdom, and missed the full harvest if the will +has not risen royally at the moment in unison with the will of the +Immortal, even though it comes rolled round with terror and suffering +and strikes at the heart of clay. + +Through all these things, in doubt, despair, poverty, sick, feeble, +or baffled, we have yet to learn reliance. "I will not leave thee +or forsake thee" are the words of the most ancient spirit to the +spark wandering in the immensity of its own being. This high courage +brings with it a vision. It sees the true intent in all circumstance +out of which its own emerges to meet it. Before it the blackness +melts into forms of beauty, and back of all illusions is seen the +old enchanter tenderly smiling, the dark, hidden Father enveloping +his children. + +All things have their compensations. For what is absent here there +is always, if we seek, a nobler presence about us. + + Captive, see what stars give light + In the hidden heart of clay: + At their radiance dark and bright + Fades the dreamy King of Day. + +We complain of conditions, but this very imperfection it is which +urges us to arise and seek for the Isles of the Immortals. What +we lack recalls the fullness. The soul has seen a brighter day +than this and a sun which never sets. Hence the retrospect: "Thou +hast been in Eden the garden of God; every precious stone was thy +covering, the sardius, topaz, and the diamond, the beryl, the onyx, +the jasper, the sapphire, emerald. . . . Thou wast upon the holy +mountain of God; thou hast walked up and down in the midst of the +stones of fire." We would point out these radiant avenues of return; +but sometimes we feel in our hearts that we sound but cockney voices +as guides amid the ancient temples, the cyclopean crypts sanctified +by the mysteries. To be intelligible we replace the opalescent +shining by the terms of the scientist, and we prate of occult +physiology in the same breath with the Most High. Yet when the +soul has the divine vision it knows not it has a body. Let it +remember, and the breath of glory kindles it no more; it is once +again a captive. After all it does not make the mysteries clearer +to speak in physical terms and do violence to our intuitions. If +we ever use these centres, as fires we shall see them, or they shall +well up within us as fountains of potent sound. We may satisfy +people's mind with a sense correspondence, and their souls may yet +hold aloof. We shall only inspire by the magic of a superior beauty. +Yet this too has its dangers. "Thou hast corrupted thy wisdom by +reason of thy brightness," continues the seer. If we follow too +much the elusive beauty of form we will miss the spirit. The last +secrets are for those who translate vision into being. Does the +glory fade away before you? Say truly in your heart, "I care not. +I will wear the robes I am endowed with today." You are already +become beautiful, being beyond desire and free. + + Night and day no more eclipse + Friendly eyes that on us shine, + Speech from old familiar lips. + Playmates of a youth divine. + +To childhood once again. We must regain the lost state. But it +is to the giant and spiritual childhood of the young immortals we +must return, when into their dear and translucent souls first fell +the rays of the father-beings. The men of old were intimates of +wind and wave and playmates of many a brightness long since forgotten. +The rapture of the fire was their rest; their out-going was still +consciously through universal being. By darkened images we may +figure something vaguely akin, as when in rare moments under the +stars the big dreamy heart of childhood is pervaded with quiet and +brimmed full with love. Dear children of the world, so tired today-- +so weary seeking after the light. Would you recover strength and +immortal vigor? Not one star alone, your star, shall shed its happy +light upon you, but the All you must adore. Something intimate, +secret, unspeakable, akin to thee, will emerge silently, insensibly, +and ally itself with thee as thou gatherest thyself from the four +quarters of the earth. We shall go back to the world of the dawn, +but to a brighter light than that which opened up this wondrous +story of the cycles. The forms of elder years will reappear in our +vision, the father-beings once again. So we shall grow at home amid +these grandeurs, and with that All-Presence about us may cry in our +hearts, "At last is our meeting, Immortal. O starry one, now is +our rest!" + + Come away, oh, come away; + We will quench the heart's desire + Past the gateways of the day + In the rapture of the fire. + +1896 + + + + + +THE HERO IN MAN + + +I. + +There sometimes comes on us a mood of strange reverence for people +and things which in less contemplative hours we hold to be unworthy; +and in such moments we may set side by side the head of the Christ +and the head of an outcast, and there is an equal radiance around +each, which makes of the darker face a shadow and is itself a shadow +around the head of light. We feel a fundamental unity of purpose +in their presence here, and would as willingly pay homage to the +one who has fallen as to him who has become a master of life. I +know that immemorial order decrees that the laurel crown be given +only to the victor, but in these moments I speak of a profound +intuition changes the decree and sets the aureole on both alike. + +We feel such deep pity for the fallen that there must needs be a +justice in it, for these diviner feelings are wiser in themselves +and do not vaguely arise. They are lights from the Father. A +justice lies in uttermost pity and forgiveness, even when we seem +to ourselves to be most deeply wronged, or why is it that the +awakening of resentment or hate brings such swift contrition? We +are ever self-condemned, and the dark thought which went forth in +us brooding revenge, when suddenly smitten by the light, withdraws +and hides within itself in awful penitence. In asking myself why +is it that the meanest are safe from our condemnation when we sit +on the true seat of judgment in the heart, it seemed to me that +their shield was the sense we have of a nobility hidden in them +under the cover of ignoble things; that their present darkness +was the result of some too weighty heroic labor undertaken long +ago by the human spirit, that it was the consecration of past +purpose which played with such a tender light about their ruined +lives, and it was more pathetic because this nobleness was all +unknown to the fallen, and the heroic cause of so much pain was +forgotten in life's prison-house. + +While feeling the service to us of the great ethical ideal which +have been formulated by men I think that the idea of justice +intellectually conceived tends to beget a certain hardness of heart. +It is true that men have done wrong--hence their pain; but back +of all this there is something infinitely soothing, a light that +does not wound, which says no harsh thing, even although the darkest +of the spirits turns to it in its agony, for the darkest of human +spirits has still around him this first glory which shines from a +deeper being within, whose history may be told as the legend of +the Hero in Man. + +Among the many immortals with whom ancient myth peopled the spiritual +spheres of humanity are some figures which draw to themselves a more +profound tenderness than the rest. Not Aphrodite rising in beauty +from the faery foam of the first seas, not Apollo with sweetest +singing, laughter, and youth, not the wielder of the lightning could +exact the reverence accorded to the lonely Titan chained on the +mountain, or to that bowed figure heavy with the burden of the sins +of the world; for the brighter divinities had no part in the labor +of man, no such intimate relation with the wherefore of his own +existence so full of struggle. The more radiant figures are +prophecies to him of his destiny, but the Titan and the Christ are +a revelation of his more immediate state; their giant sorrows +companion his own, and in contemplating them he awakens what is +noblest in his own nature; or, in other words, in understanding +their divine heroism he understands himself. For this in truth it +seems to me to mean: all knowledge is a revelation of the self to +the self, and our deepest comprehension of the seemingly apart +divine is also our farthest inroad to self-knowledge; Prometheus, +Christ, are in every heart; the story of one is the story of all; +the Titan and the Crucified are humanity. + +If, then, we consider them as representing the human spirit and +disentangle from the myths their meaning, we shall find that +whatever reverence is due to that heroic love, which descended +from heaven for the redeeming of a lower nature, must be paid to +every human being. Christ is incarnate in all humanity. Prometheus +is bound for ever within us. They are the same. They are a host, +and the divine incarnation was not spoken of one, but of all those +who, descending into the lower world, tried to change it into the +divine image, and to wrest out of chaos a kingdom for the empire +of light. The angels saw below them in chaos a senseless rout +blind with elemental passion, for ever warring with discordant +cries which broke in upon the world of divine beauty; and that +the pain might depart, they grew rebellious in the Master's peace, +and descending to earth the angelic lights were crucified in men. +They left so radiant worlds, such a light of beauty, for earth's +gray twilight filled with tears, that through this elemental life +might breathe the starry music brought from Him. If the "Fore-seer" +be a true name for the Titan, it follows that in the host which +he represents was a light which well foreknew all the dark paths +of its journey; foreseeing the bitter struggle with a hostile +nature, but foreseeing perhaps a gain, a distant glory o'er the +hills of sorrow, and that chaos, divine and transformed, with only +gentle breathing, lit up by the Christ-soul of the universe. There +is a transforming power in the thought itself: we can no longer +condemn the fallen, they who laid aside their thrones of ancient +power, their spirit ecstasy and beauty on such a mission. Perhaps +those who sank lowest did so to raise a greater burden, and of +these most fallen it may in the hour of their resurrection be said, +"The last shall be first." + +So, placing side by side the head of the outcast with the head of +Christ, it has this equal beauty--with as bright a glory it sped +from the Father in ages past on its redeeming labor. Of his present +darkness what shall we say? "He is altogether dead in sin?" Nay, +rather with tenderness forbear, and think the foreseeing spirit +has taken its own dread path to mastery; that that which foresaw +the sorrow foresaw also beyond it a greater joy and a mightier +existence, when it would rise again in a new robe, woven out of +the treasure hidden in the deep of its submergence, and shine at +last like the stars of the morning, and live among the Sons of God. + + + +II. + +Our deepest life is when we are alone. We think most truly, love +best, when isolated from the outer world in that mystic abyss we +call soul. Nothing external can equal the fullness of these moments. +We may sit in the blue twilight with a friend, or bend together by +the hearth, half whispering or in a silence populous with loving +thoughts mutually understood; then we may feel happy and at peace, +but it is only because we are lulled by a semblance to deeper +intimacies. When we think of a friend and the loved one draws nigh, +we sometimes feel half-pained, for we touched something in our +solitude which the living presence shut out; we seem more apart, +and would fain wave them away and cry, "Call me not forth from this; +I am no more a spirit if I leave my throne." But these moods, though +lit up by intuitions of the true, are too partial, they belong too +much to the twilight of the heart, they have too dreamy a temper +to serve us well in life. We would wish rather for our thoughts +a directness such as belongs to the messengers of the gods, swift, +beautiful, flashing presences bent on purposes well understood. + +What we need is that this interior tenderness shall be elevated +into seership, that what in most is only yearning or blind love +shall see clearly its way and hope. To this end we have to observe +more intently the nature of the interior life. We find, indeed, +that it is not a solitude at all, but dense with multitudinous being: +instead of being alone we are in the thronged highways of existence. +For our guidance when entering here many words of warning have been +uttered, laws have been outlined, and beings full of wonder, terror, +and beauty described. Yet there is a spirit in us deeper than our +intellectual being which I think of as the Hero in man, who feels +the nobility of its place in the midst of all this, and who would +fain equal the greatness of perception with deeds as great. The +weariness and sense of futility which often falls upon the mystic +after much thought is due to this, that he has not recognized that +he must be worker as well as seer, that here he has duties demanding +a more sustained endurance, just as the inner life is so much vaster +and more intense than the life he has left behind. + +Now the duties which can be taken up by the soul are exactly those +which it feels most inadequate to perform when acting as an embodied +being. What shall be done to quiet the heart-cry of the world: how +answer the dumb appeal for help we so often divine below eyes that +laugh? It is the saddest of all sorrows to think that pity with no +hands to heal, that love without a voice to speak should helplessly +heap their pain upon pain while earth shall endure. But there is a +truth about sorrow which I think may make it seem not so hopeless. +There are fewer barriers than we think: there is, in truth, an +inner alliance between the soul who would fain give and the soul +who is in need. Nature has well provided that not one golden ray +of all our thoughts is sped ineffective through the dark; not one +drop of the magical elixirs love distils is wasted. Let us consider +how this may be. There is a habit we nearly all have indulged in. +We weave little stories in our minds, expending love and pity upon +the imaginary beings we have created, and I have been led to think +that many of these are not imaginary, that somewhere in the world +beings are living just in that way, and we merely reform and live +over again in our life the story of another life. Sometimes these +far-away intimates assume so vivid a shape, they come so near with +their appeal for sympathy that the pictures are unforgettable; and +the more I ponder over them the more it seems to me that they often +convey the actual need of some soul whose cry for comfort has gone +out into the vast, perhaps to meet with an answer, perhaps to hear +only silence. I will supply an instance. I see a child, a curious, +delicate little thing, seated on the doorstep of a house. It is +an alley in some great city, and there is a gloom of evening and +vapor over the sky. I see the child is bending over the path; he +is picking cinders and arranging them, and as I ponder I become +aware that he is laying down in gritty lines the walls of a house, +the mansion of his dream. Here spread along the pavement are large +rooms, these for his friends, and a tiny room in the centre, that +is his own. So his thought plays. Just then I catch a glimpse of +the corduroy trousers of a passing workman, and a heavy boot crushes +through the cinders. I feel the pain in the child's heart as he +shrinks back, his little lovelit house of dreams all rudely shattered. +Ah, poor child, building the City Beautiful out of a few cinders, +yet nigher, truer in intent than many a stately, gold-rich palace +reared by princes, thou wert not forgotten by that mighty spirit +who lives through the falling of empires, whose home has been in +many a ruined heart. Surely it was to bring comfort to hearts like +thine that that most noble of all meditations was ordained by the +Buddha. "He lets his mind pervade one quarter of the world with +thoughts of Love, and so the second, and so the third, and so the +fourth. And thus the whole wide world, above, below, around, and +everywhere does he continue to pervade with heart of Love far-reaching, +grown great and beyond measure." + +That love, though the very faery breath of life, should by itself, +and so imparted have a sustaining power some may question, not +those who have felt the sunlight fall from distant friends who +think of them; but, to make clearer how it seems to me to act, I +say that love, Eros, is a being. It is more than a power of the +soul, though it is that also; it has a universal life of its own, +and just as the dark heaving waters do not know what jewel lights +they reflect with blinding radiance, so the soul, partially absorbing +and feeling the ray of Eros within it, does not know that often a +part of its nature nearer to the sun of love shines with a brilliant +light to other eyes than its own. Many people move unconscious of +their own charm, unknowing of the beauty and power they seem to +others to impart. It is some past attainment of the soul, a jewel +won in some old battle which it may have forgotten, but none the +less this gleams on its tiara, and the star-flame inspires others +to hope and victory. + +If it is true here that many exert a spiritual influence they are +unconscious of, it is still truer of the spheres within. Once the +soul has attained to any possession like love, or persistent will, +or faith, or a power of thought, it comes into spiritual contact +with others who are struggling for these very powers. The attainment +of any of these means that the soul is able to absorb and radiate +some of the diviner elements of being. The soul may or may nor be +aware of the position it is placed in or its new duties, but yet +that Living Light, having found a way into the being of any one person, +does not rest there, but sends its rays and extends its influence on +and on to illume the darkness of another nature. So it comes that +there are ties which bind us to people other than those whom we meet +in our everyday life. I think they are most real ties, most important +to understand, for if we let our lamp go out some far away who had +reached out in the dark and felt a steady will, a persistent hope, +a compassionate love, may reach out once again in an hour of need, +and finding no support may give way and fold the hands in despair. +Often we allow gloom to overcome us and so hinder the bright rays +in their passage; but would we do it so often if we thought that +perhaps a sadness which besets us, we do not know why, was caused +by some one drawing nigh to us for comfort, whom our lethargy might +make feel still more his helplessnes, while our courage, our faith +might cause "our light to shine in some other heart which as yet has +no light of its own"? + + + +III. + + +The night was wet, and as I was moving down the streets my mind was +also journeying on a way of its own, and the things which were bodily +present before me were no less with me in my unseen traveling. Every +now and then a transfer would take place, and some of the moving +shadows in the street would begin walking about in the clear interior +light. The children of the city, crouched in the doorways or racing +through the hurrying multitude and flashing lights, began their elfin +play again in my heart; and that was because I had heard these tiny +outcasts shouting with glee. I wondered if the glitter and shadow +of such sordid things were thronged with magnificence and mystery +for those who were unaware of a greater light and deeper shade which +made up the romance and fascination of my own life. In imagination +I narrowed myself to their ignorance, littleness, and youth, and +seemed for a moment to flit amid great uncomprehended beings and a +dim wonderful city of palaces. + +Then another transfer took place, and I was pondering anew, for a +face I had seen flickering through the warm wet mist haunted me; +it entered into the realm of the interpreter, and I was made aware +by the pale cheeks and by the close-shut lips of pain, and by some +inward knowledge, that there the Tree of Life was beginning to grow, +and I wondered why it is that it always springs up through a heart +in ashes; I wondered also if that which springs up, which in itself +is an immortal joy, has knowledge that its shoots are piercing +through such anguish; or, again, if it was the piercing of the +shoots which caused the pain, and if every throb of the beautiful +flame darting upward to blossom meant the perishing of some more +earthly growth which had kept the heart in shadow. + +Seeing, too, how many thoughts spring up from such a simple thing, +I questioned whether that which started the impulse had any share +in the outcome, and if these musings of mine in any way affected +their subject. I then began thinking about those secret ties on +which I have speculated before, and in the darkness my heart grew +suddenly warm and glowing, for I had chanced upon one of these +shining imaginations which are the wealth of those who travel upon +the hidden ways. In describing that which comes to us all at once, +there is a difficulty in choosing between what is first and what +is last to say; but, interpreting as best I can, I seemed to behold +the onward movement of a Light, one among many lights, all living, +throbbing, now dim with perturbations and now again clear, and all +subtly woven together, outwardly in some more shadowy shining, and +inwardly in a greater fire, which, though it was invisible, I knew +to be the Lamp of the World. This Light which I beheld I felt to +be a human soul, and these perturbations which dimmed it were its +struggles and passionate longings for something, and that was for +a more brilliant shining of the light within itself. It was in +love with its own beauty, enraptured by its own lucidity; and I +saw that as these things were more beloved they grew paler, for +this light is the light which the Mighty Mother has in her heart +for her children, and she means that it shall go through each one +unto all, and whoever restrains it in himself is himself shut out; +not that the great heart has ceased in its love for that soul, but +that the soul has shut itself off from influx, for every imagination +of man is the opening or the closing of a door to the divine world; +now he is solitary, cut off, and, seemingly to himself, on the desert +and distant verge of things; and then his thought throws open the +shut portals, he hears the chant of the seraphs in his heart, and +he is made luminous by the lighting of a sudden aureole. This soul +which I watched seemed to have learned at last the secret love; for, +in the anguish begotten by its loss, it followed the departing glory +in penitence to the inmost shrine, where it ceased altogether; and +because it seemed utterly lost and hopeless of attainment and +capriciously denied to the seeker, a profound pity arose in the +soul for those who, like it, were seeking, but still in hope, for +they had not come to the vain end of their endeavors. I understood +that such pity is the last of the precious essences which make up +the elixir of immortality, and when it is poured into the cup it +is ready for drinking. And so it was with this soul which grew +brilliant with the passage of the eternal light through its new +purity of self-oblivion, and joyful in the comprehension of the +mystery of the secret love, which, though it has been declared many +times by the greatest of teachers among men, is yet never known +truly unless the Mighty Mother has herself breathed it in the heart. + +And now that the soul has divined this secret, the shadowy shining +which was woven in bonds of union between it and its fellow lights +grew clearer; and a multitude of these strands were, so it seemed, +strengthened and placed in its keeping: along these it was to send +the message of the wisdom and the love which were the secret sweetness +of its own being. Then a spiritual tragedy began, infinitely more +pathetic than the old desolation, because it was brought about by +the very nobility of the spirit. This soul, shedding its love like +rays of glory, seemed itself the centre of a ring of wounding spears: +it sent forth love, and the arrowy response came hate-impelled: it +whispered peace, and was answered by the clash of rebellion: and +to all this for defense it could only bare more openly its heart +that a profounder love from the Mother Nature might pass through +upon the rest. I knew this was what a teacher, who wrote long ago, +meant when he said: "Put on the whole armor of God," which is love +and endurance, for the truly divine children of the Flame are not +armed otherwise: and of those protests set up in ignorance or +rebellion against the whisper of the wisdom, I saw that some melted +in the fierce and tender heat of the heart, and there came in their +stead a golden response, which made closer the ties, and drew these +souls upward to an understanding and to share in the overshadowing +nature. And this is part of the plan of the Great Alchemist, whereby +the red ruby of the heart is transmuted into the tender light of +the opal; for the beholding of love made bare acts like the flame +of the furnace: and the dissolving passions, through an anguish +of remorse, the lightnings of pain, and through an adoring pity +are changed into the image they contemplate, and melt in the ecstasy +of self-forgetful love, the spirit which lit the thorn-crowned brows +which perceived only in its last agony the retribution due to its +tormentors, and cried out, "Father, forgive them, for they know not +what they do." + +Now, although the love of the few may alleviate the hurt due to +the ignorance of the mass, it is not in the power of any one to +withstand for ever this warfare; for by the perpetual wounding +of the inner nature it is so wearied that the spirit must withdraw +from a tabernacle grown too frail to support the increase of light +within and the jarring of the demoniac nature without; and at +length comes the call which means, for a while, release and a deep +rest in regions beyond the paradise of lesser souls. So, withdrawn +into the divine darkness, vanished the light of my dream. And now +it seemed as if this wonderful weft of souls intertwining as one +being must come to naught; and all those who through the gloom had +nourished a longing for the light would stretch out hands in vain +for guidance; but that I did not understand the love of the Mother, +and that, although few, there is no decaying of her heroic brood; +for, as the seer of old caught at the mantle of him who went up in +the fiery chariot, so another took up the burden and gathered the +shining strands together: and of this sequence of spiritual guides +there is no ending. + +Here I may say that the love of the Mother, which, acting through +the burnished will of the hero, is wrought to its highest uses, is +in reality everywhere, and pervades with profoundest tenderness the +homeliest circumstance of daily life, and there is not lacking, +even among the humblest, an understanding of the spiritual tragedy +which follows upon every effort of the divine nature, bowing itself +down in pity to our shadowy sphere, an understanding where the nature +of the love is gauged through the extent of the sacrifice and the +pain which is overcome. I recall the instance of an old Irish +peasant, who, as he lay in hospital wakeful from a grinding pain +in the leg, forgot himself in making drawings, rude, yet reverently +done, of incidents in the life of the Galilean Teacher. One of +these which he showed me was a crucifixion, where, amidst much +grotesque symbolism, were some tracings which indicated a purely +beautiful intuition; the heart of this crucified figure, no less +than the brow, was wreathed about with thorns and radiant with light: +"For that," said he, "was where he really suffered." When I think +of this old man, bringing forgetfulness of his own bodily pain +through contemplation of the spiritual suffering of his Master, my +memory of him shines with something of the transcendent light he +himself perceived, for I feel that some suffering of his own, nobly +undergone, had given him understanding, and he had laid his heart +in love against the Heart of Many Sorrows, seeing it wounded by +unnumbered spears, yet burning with undying love. + +Though much may be learned by observance of the superficial life +and actions of a spiritual teacher, it is only in the deeper life +of meditation and imagination that it can be truly realized; for +the soul is a midnight blossom which opens its leaves in dream, +and its perfect bloom is unfolded only where another sun shines +in another heaven; there it feels what celestial dews descend on +it and what influences draw it up to its divine archetype. Here +in the shadow of earth root intercoils with root, and the finer +distinctions of the blossom are not perceived. If we knew also +who they really are, who sometimes in silence and sometimes with +the eyes of the world at gaze take upon them the mantle of teacher, +an unutterable awe would prevail, for underneath a bodily presence +not in any sense beautiful may burn the glory of some ancient +divinity, some hero who has laid aside his sceptre in the enchanted +land, to rescue old-time comrades fallen into oblivion; or, again, +if we had the insight of the simple old peasant into the nature +of his enduring love, out of the exquisite and poignant emotions +kindled would arise the flame of a passionate love, which would +endure long aeons of anguish that it might shield, though but for +a little, the kingly hearts who may not shield themselves. + +But I, too, who write, have launched the rebellious spear, or in +lethargy have oft times gone down the great drift numbering myself +among those who, not being with must needs be against. Therefore +I make no appeal: they only may call who stand upon the lofty +mountains; but I reveal the thought which arose like a star in +my soul with such bright and pathetic meaning, leaving it to you +who read to approve and apply it. + +1897 + + + + + +THE MEDITATION OF ANANDA + + +Ananda rose from his seat under the banyan tree. He passed his hand +unsteadily over his brow. Throughout the day the young ascetic had +been plunged in profound meditation; and now, returning from heaven +to earth, he was bewildered like one who awakens in darkness and +knows not where he is. All day long before his inner eye burned +the light of the Lokas, until he was wearied and exhausted with +their splendors; space glowed like a diamond with intolerable lustre, +and there was no end to the dazzling procession of figures. He had +seen the fiery dreams of the dead in heaven. He had been tormented +by the music of celestial singers, whose choral song reflected in +its ripples the rhythmic pulse of being. He saw how these orbs were +held within luminous orbs of wider circuit; and vaste and vaster +grew the vistas, until at last, a mere speck of life, he bore the +burden of innumerable worlds. Seeking for Brahma, he found only +the great illusion as infinite as Brahma's being. + +If these things were shadows, the earth and the forests he returned +to, viewed at evening, seemed still more unreal, the mere dusky +flutter of a moth's wings in space, so filmy and evanescent that +if he had sunk as through transparent aether into the void, it would +not have been wonderful. + +Ananda, still half entranced, turned homeward. As he threaded the +dim alleys he noticed not the flaming eyes which regarded him from +the gloom; the serpents rustling amid the undergrowth; the lizards, +fireflies, insects, and the innumerable lives of which the Indian +forest was rumorous; they also were but shadows. He paused near +the village hearing the sound of human voices, of children at play. +He felt a pity for these tiny beings, who struggled and shouted, +rolling over each other in ecstasies of joy. The great illusion +had indeed devoured them, before whose spirits the Devas themselves +once were worshippers. Then, close beside him, he heard a voice, +whose low tone of reverence soothed him; it was akin to his own +nature, and it awakened him fully. A little crowd of five or six +people were listening silently to an old man who read from a palm- +leaf manuscript. Ananda knew, by the orange-colored robes of the +old man that here was a brother of the new faith, and he paused +with the others. What was his illusion? The old man lifted his +head for a moment as the ascetic came closer, and then continued +as before. He was reading "The Legend of the Great King of Glory," +and Ananda listened while the story was told of the Wonderful Wheel, +the Elephant Treasure, the Lake and Palace of Righteousness, and +of the meditation, how the Great King of Glory entered the golden +chamber, and set himself down on the silver couch, and he let his +mind pervade one quarter of the world with thoughts of love; and +so the second quarter, and so the third, and so the fourth. And +thus the whole wide world, above, below, around, and everywhere, +did he continue to pervade with heart of Love, far reaching, grown +great, and beyond measure. + +When the old man had ended Ananda went back into the forest. He +had found the secret of the true, how the Vision could be left +behind and the Being entered. Another legend rose in his mind, a +faery legend of righteousness expanding and filling the universe, +a vision beautiful and full of old enchantment, and his heart sang +within him. He seated himself again under the banyan tree. He +rose up in soul. He saw before him images long forgotten of those +who suffer in the sorrowful earth. He saw the desolation and +loneliness of old age, the insults of the captive, the misery of +the leper and outcast, the chill horror and darkness of life in a +dungeon. He drank in all their sorrow. From his heart he went +out to them. Love, a fierce and tender flame, arose; pity, a +breath from the vast; sympathy, born of unity. This triple fire +sent forth its rays; they surrounded those dark souls; they +pervaded them; they beat down oppression. +------------- + +While Ananda, with spiritual magic, sent forth the healing powers +through the four quarters of the world, far away at that moment a +king sat enthroned in his hall. A captive was bound before him-- +bound, but proud, defiant, unconquerable of soul. There was silence +in the hall until the king spake the doom and torture for this +ancient enemy. + +The king spake: "I had thought to do some fierce thing to thee +and so end thy days, my enemy. But I remember now, with sorrow, +the great wrongs we have done to each other, and the hearts made +sore by our hatred. I shall do no more wrong to thee; thou art +free to depart. Do what thou wilt. I will make restitution to +thee as far as may be for thy ruined state." + +Then the soul which no might could conquer was conquered utterly-- +the knees of the captive were bowed and his pride was overcome. "My +brother," he said, and could say no more. +------------- + +To watch for years a little narrow slit high up in a dark cell, so +high that he could not reach up and look out, and there to see daily +the change from blue to dark in the sky, had withered a prisoner's +soul. The bitter tears came no more, hardly even sorrow, only a +dull, dead feeling. But that day a great groan burst from him. He +heard outside the laugh of a child who was playing and gathering +flowers under the high, gray walls. Then it all came over him--the +divine things missed, the light, the glory, and the beauty that the +earth puts forth for her children. The arrow slit was darkened, +and half of a little bronze face appeared. + +"Who are you down there in the darkness who sigh so? Are you all +alone there? For so many years! Ah, poor man! I would come down +to you if I could, but I will sit here and talk to you for a while. +Here are flowers for you," and a little arm showered them in by +handfuls until the room was full of the intoxicating fragrance of +summer. Day after day the child came, and the dull heart entered +once more into the great human love. +-------------- + +At twilight, by a deep and wide river, an old woman sat alone, +dreamy and full of memories. The lights of the swift passing boats +and the light of the stars were just as in childhood and the old +love-time. Old, feeble, it was time for her to hurry away from +the place which changed not with her sorrow. + +"Do you see our old neighbor there?" said Ayesha to her lover. "They +say she was once as beautiful as you would make me think I now am. +How lonely she must be! Let us come near and speak to her," and the +lover went gladly. Though they spoke to each other rather than to +her, yet something of the past, which never dies when love, the +immortal, has pervaded it, rose up again as she heard their voices. +She smiled, thinking of years of burning beauty. +-------------- + +A teacher, accompanied by his disciples, was passing by the wayside +where a leper sat. + +The teacher said: "Here is our brother, whom we may not touch, but +he need not be shut out from truth. We may sit down where he can listen." + +He sat on the wayside near the leper, and his disciples stood around +him. He spoke words full of love, kindliness, and pity--the eternal +truths which make the soul grow full of sweetness and youth. A small, +old spot began to glow in the heart of the leper, and the tears ran +down his blighted face. +-------------- + +All these were the deeds of Ananda the ascetic, and the Watcher who +was over him from all eternity made a great stride towards that soul. + +1893 + + + + + +THE MIDNIGHT BLOSSOM + + +"Arhans are born at midnight hour, together with the holy flower +that opes and blossoms in darkness." + --From an Eastern Scripture. + +We stood together at the door of our hut. We could see through the +gathering gloom where our sheep and goats were cropping the sweet +grass on the side of the hill. We were full of drowsy content as +they were. We had naught to mar our happiness, neither memory nor +unrest for the future. We lingered on while the vast twilight +encircled us; we were one with its dewy stillness. The lustre of +the early stars first broke in upon our dreaming: we looked up +and around. The yellow constellations began to sing their choral +hymn together. As the night deepened they came out swiftly from +their hiding-places in depths of still and unfathomable blue--they +hung in burning clusters, they advanced in multitudes that dazzled. +The shadowy shining of night was strewn all over with nebulous dust +of silver, with long mists of gold, with jewels of glittering green. +We felt how fit a place the earth was to live on with these nightly +glories over us, with silence and coolness upon our lawns and lakes +after the consuming day. Valmika, Kedar, Ananda, and I watched +together. Through the rich gloom we could see far distant forests +and lights, the lights of village and city in King Suddhodana's realm. + +"Brothers," said Valmika, "how good it is to be here and not yonder +in the city, where they know not peace, even in sleep." + +"Yonder and yonder," said Kedar I saw the inner air full of a red +glow where they were busy in toiling and strife. It seemed to reach +up to me. I could not breathe. I climbed the hill at dawn to laugh +where the snows were, and the sun is as white as they are white." + +"But, brothers, if we went down among them and told them how happy +we were, and how the flower's grow on the hillside, they would surely +come up and leave all sorrow. They cannot know or they would come." +Ananda was a mere child, though so tall for his years. + +"They would not come," said Kedar; "all their joy is to haggle and +hoard. When Siva blows upon them with angry breath they will lament, +or when the demons in fierce hunger devour them." + +"It is good to be here," repeated Valmika, drowsily, "to mind the +flocks and be at rest, and to hear the wise Varunna speak when he +comes among us." + +I was silent. I knew better than they that busy city which glowed +beyond the dark forests. I had lived there until, grown sick and +weary, I had gone back to my brothers on the hillside. I wondered, +would life, indeed, go on ceaselessly until it ended in the pain +of the world. I said within myself: "O mighty Brahma, on the +outermost verges of thy dream are our lives. Thou old invisible, +how faintly through our hearts comes the sound of thy song, the +light of thy glory!" Full of yearning to rise and return, I strove +to hear in my heart the music Anahata, spoken of in our sacred +scrolls. There was silence and then I thought I heard sounds, not +glad, a myriad murmur. As I listened they deepened--they grew into +passionate prayer and appeal and tears, as if the cry of the long- +forgotten souls of men went echoing through empty chambers. My eyes +filled with tears, for it seemed world-wide and to sigh from out +many ages, long agone, to be and yet to be. + +"Ananda! Ananda! Where is the boy running to?" cried Valmika. +Ananda had vanished in the gloom. We heard his glad laugh below, +and then another voice speaking. The tall figure of Varunna loomed +up presently. Ananda held his hand, and danced beside him. We +knew the Yogi, and bowed reverently before him. We could see by +the starlight his simple robe of white. I could trace clearly every +feature of the grave and beautiful face and radiant eyes. I saw not +by the starlight, but by a silvery radiance which rayed a little way +into the blackness around the dark hair and face. Valmika, as elder, +first spoke: + +"Holy sir, be welcome. Will you come in and rest?" + +"I cannot stay now. I must pass over the mountains ere dawn; but +you may come a little way with me--such of you as will." + +We assented gladly, Kedar and I, Valmika remained. Then Ananda +prayed to go. We bade him stay, fearing for him the labor of +climbing and the chill of the snows. But Varunna said: "Let the +child come. He is hardy, and will not tire if he holds my hand." + +So we set out together, and faced the highlands that rose and rose +above us. We knew the way well, even at night. We waited in +silence for Varunna to speak; but for nigh an hour we mounted +without words, save for Ananda's shouts of delight and wonder at +the heavens spread above valleys that lay behind us. Then I grew +hungry for an answer to my thoughts, and I spake: + +"Master, Valmika was saying, ere you came, how good it was to be +here rather than in the city, where they are full of strife. And +Kedar thought their lives would flow on into fiery pain, and no +speech would avail. Ananda, speaking as a child, indeed, said if +one went down among they would listen to his story of the happy life. +But, Master, do not many speak and interpret the sacred writings, +and how few are they who lay to heart the words of the gods! They +seem, indeed, to go on through desire into pain, and even here upon +the hills we are not free, for Kedar felt the hot glow of their +passion, and I heard in my heart their sobs of despair. Master, +it was terrible, for they seemed to come from the wide earth over, +and out of ages far away. + + "In the child's words is the truth," said Varunna, "for it is +better to aid even in sorrow than to withdraw from pain to a happy +solitude. Yet only the knowers of Brahma can interpret the sacred +writings truly, and it is well to be free ere we speak of freedom. +Then we have power and many hearken." + +"But who would leave joy for sorrow? And who, being one with Brahma, +would return to give counsel?" + +"Brother," said Varunna, "here is the hope of the world. Though +many seek only for the eternal joy, yet the cry you heard has been +heard by great ones who have turned backwards, called by these +beseeching voices. The small old path stretching far away leads +through many wonderful beings to the place of Brahma. There is +the first fountain, the world of beautiful silence, the light which +has been undimmed since the beginning of time. But turning backwards +from the gate the small old path winds away into the world of men, +and it enters every sorrowful heart. This is the way the great +ones go. They turn with the path from the door of Brahma. They +move along its myriad ways, and overcome pain with compassion. After +many conquered worlds, after many races of purified and uplifted men, +they go to a greater than Brahma. In these, though few, is the +hope of the world. These are the heroes for whose returning the +earth puts forth her signal fires, and the Devas sing their hymns +of welcome." + +We paused where the plateau widened out. There was scarce a ripple +in the chill air. In quietness the snows glistened, a light reflected +from the crores of stars that swung with glittering motion above us. +We could hear the immense heart-beat of the world in the stillness. +We had thoughts that went ranging through the heavens, not sad, but +full of solemn hope. + +"Brothers! Master! look! The wonderful thing! And another, and +yet another!" we heard Ananda calling. We looked and saw the holy +blossom, the midnight flower. Oh, may the earth again put forth +such beauty. It grew up from the snows with leaves of delicate +crystal. A nimbus encircled each radiant bloom, a halo pale yet +lustrous. I bowed over it in awe; and I heard Varunna say, "The +earth indeed puts forth her signal fires, and the Devas sing their +hymn. Listen!" We heard a music as of beautiful thoughts moving +along the high places of the earth, full of infinite love and hope +and yearning. + +"Be glad now, for one is born who has chosen the greater way. Kedar, +Narayan, Ananda, farewell! Nay, no farther. It is a long way to +return, and the child will tire." + +He went on and passed from our sight. But we did not return. We +remained long, long in silence, looking at the sacred flower. +------------- + +Vow, taken long ago, be strong in our hearts today. Here, where +the pain is fiercer, to rest is more sweet. Here, where beauty +dies away, it is more joy to be lulled in dream. Here, the good, +the true, our hope seem but a madness born of ancient pain. Out +of rest, dream, or despair may we arise, and go the way the great +ones go. + +1894 + + + + + +THE CHILDHOOD OF APOLLO + + +It was long ago, so long that only the spirit of earth remembers +truly. The old shepherd Admetus sat before the door of his hut +waiting for his grandson to return. He watched with drowsy eyes +the eve gather, and the woods and mountains grow dark over the +isles--the isles of ancient Greece. It was Greece before its day +of beauty, and day was never lovelier. The cloudy blossoms of smoke, +curling upward from the valley, sparkled a while high up in the +sunlit air, a vague memorial of the world of men below. From that, +too, the color vanished, and those other lights began to shine which +to some are the only lights of day. The skies dropped close upon +the mountains and the silver seas like a vast face brooding with +intentness. There was enchantment, mystery, and a living motion +in its depths, the presence of all-pervading Zeus enfolding his +starry children with the dark radiance of aether. + +"Ah!" murmured the old man, looking upward, "once it was living; +once it spoke to me. It speaks not now; but it speaks to others +I know--to the child who looks and longs and trembles in the dewy +night. Why does he linger now? He is beyond his hour. Ah, there +now are his footsteps!" + +A boy came up the valley driving the gray flocks which tumbled +before him in the darkness. He lifted his young face for the +shepherd to kiss. It was alight with ecstasy. Admetus looked at +him with wonder. A golden and silvery light rayed all about the +child, so that his delicate ethereal beauty seemed set in a star +which followed his dancing footsteps. + +"How bright your eyes!" the old man said, faltering with sudden awe. +"Why do your limbs shine with moonfire light?" + +"Oh, father," said the boy Apollo, "I am glad, for everything is +living tonight. The evening is all a voice and many voices. While +the flocks were browsing night gathered about me. I saw within it +and it was everywhere living. + +"The wind with dim-blown tresses, odor, incense, and secret falling +dew, mingled in one warm breath. They whispered to me and called +me 'Child of the Stars,' 'Dew Heart,' and 'Soul of Light.' Oh, +father, as I came up the valley the voices followed me with song. +Everything murmured love. Even the daffodils, nodding in the olive +gloom, grew golden at my feet, and a flower within my heart knew +of the still sweet secret of the flowers. Listen, listen!" + +There were voices in the night, voices as of star-rays descending. + + Now the roof-tree of the midnight spreading + Buds in citron, green, and blue: + From afar its mystic odors shedding, + Child, on you. + +Then other sweet speakers from beneath the earth, and from the +distant waters and air, followed in benediction, and a last voice +like a murmur from universal nature: + + Now the buried stars beneath the mountains + And the vales their life renew, + Jetting rainbow blooms from tiny fountains, + Child, for you. + + As within our quiet waters passing + Sun and moon and stars we view, + So the loveliness of life is glassing, + Child, in you. + + In the diamond air the sun-star glowing + Up its feathered radiance threw; + All the jewel glory there was flowing, + Child, for you. + + And the fire divine in all things burning + Yearns for home and rest anew, + From its wanderings far again returning, + Child, to you. + +"Oh, voices, voices," cried the child, "what you say I know not, +but I give back love for love. Father, what is it they tell me? +They enfold me in light, and I am far away even though I hold +your hand." + +"The gods are about us. Heaven mingles with the earth," said Admetus, +trembling. "Let us go to Diotima. She has grown wise brooding for +many a year where the great caves lead to the underworld. She sees +the bright ones as they pass by, though she sits with shut eyes, +her drowsy lips murmuring as nature's self." + +That night the island seemed no more earth set in sea, but a music +encircled by the silence. The trees, long rooted in antique slumber, +were throbbing with rich life; through glimmering bark and drooping +leaf a light fell on the old man and boy as they passed, and vague +figures nodded at them. These were the hamadryad souls of the wood. +They were bathed in tender colors and shimmering lights draping +them from root to leaf. A murmur came from the heart of every one, +a low enchantment breathing joy and peace. It grew and swelled +until at last it seemed as if through a myriad pipes Pan the earth +spirit was fluting his magical creative song. + +They found the cave of Diotima covered by vines and tangled trailers +at the end of the island where the dark-green woodland rose up from +the waters. Admetus paused, for he dreaded this mystic prophetess; +but a voice from within called them: + +"Come, child of light: come in, old shepherd, I know why you seek me!" + +They entered, Admetus trembling with more fear than before. A fire +was blazing in a recess of the cavern, and by it sat a majestic +figure robed in purple. She was bent forward, her hand supporting +her face, her burning eyes turned on the intruders. + +"Come hither, child," she said, taking the boy by the hands and +gazing into his face. "So this pale form is to be the home of +the god. The gods Choose wisely. They take no wild warrior, no +mighty hero to be their messenger, but crown this gentle head. +Tell me, have you ever seen a light from the sun falling on you +in your slumber? No, but look now. Look upward." + +As she spoke she waved her hands over him, and the cavern with its +dusky roof seemed to melt away, and beyond the heavens the heaven +of heavens lay dark in pure tranquility, in a quiet which was the +very hush of being. In an instant it vanished, and over the zenith +broke a wonderful light. + +"See now," cried Diotima, "the Ancient Beauty! Look how its petals +expand, and what comes forth from its heart!" A vast and glowing +breath, mutable and opalescent, spread itself between heaven and +earth, and out of it slowly descended a radiant form like a god's. +It drew nigh, radiating lights, pure, beautiful, and star-like. It +stood for a moment by the child and placed its hand on his head, +and then it was gone. The old shepherd fell upon his face in awe, +while the boy stood breathless and entranced. + +"Go now," said the Sybil, "I can teach thee naught. Nature herself +will adore you, and sing through you her loveliest song. But, ah, +the light you hail in joy you shall impart in tears. So from age +to age the eternal Beauty bows itself down amid sorrows, that the +children of men may not forget it, that their anguish may be +transformed, smitten through by its fire." + + + + + +THE MASK OF APOLLO + + +A tradition rises within me of quiet, unarmored years, ages before +the demigods and heroes toiled at the making of Greece, long ages +before the building of the temples and sparkling palaces of her +day of glory. The land was pastoral, and over all the woods hung +a stillness as of dawn and of unawakened beauty deep breathing in +rest. Here and there little villages sent up their smoke and a +dreamy people moved about. They grew up, toiled a little at their +fields, followed their sheep and goats, wedded, and gray age overtook +them, but they never ceased to be children. They worshipped the gods +in little wooden temples, with ancient rites forgotten in later years. + +Near one of these shrines lived a priest--an old man--who was held +in reverence by all for his simple and kindly nature. To him, +sitting one summer evening before his hut, came a stranger whom +he invited to share his meal. The stranger seated himself and +began to tell the priest many wonderful things--stories of the +magic of the sun and of the bright beings who move at the gateways +of the day. The old man grew drowsy in the warm sunlight and fell +asleep. Then the stranger, who was Apollo, arose, and in the guise +of the priest entered the little temple, and the people came in +unto him one after the other. + +First came Agathon, the husbandman, who said: "Father, as I bend +over the fields or fasten up the vines I sometimes remember that +you said the gods can be worshipped by doing these things as by +sacrifice. How is it, father, that the pouring of cold water over +roots or training up the vines can nourish Zeus? How can the +sacrifice appear before his throne when it is not carried up in +the fire and vapor?" + +To him Apollo, in the guise of the old man, replied: "Agathon, +the father omnipotent does not live only in the aether. He runs +invisibly within the sun and stars, and as they whirl round and +round they break out into streams and woods and flowers, and the +clouds are shaken away from them as the leaves from off the roses. +Great, strange, and bright, he busies himself within, and at the +end of time his light shall shine, through, and men shall see it +moving in a world of flame. Think then, as you bend over your +fields, of what you nourish and what rises up within them. Know +that every flower as it droops in the quiet of the woodland feels +within and far away the approach of an unutterable life and is glad. +They reflect that life as the little pools the light of the stars. +Agathon, Agathon, Zeus is no greater in the aether than he is in +the leaf of grass, and the hymns of men are no sweeter to him than +a little water poured over one of his flowers." + +Agathon, the husbandman, went away, and he bent tenderly in dreams +over his fruit and his vines, and he loved them more than before, +and he grew wise as he watched them and was happy working for the gods. + +Then spake Damon, the shepherd Father, "while the flocks are browsing +dreams rise up within me. They make the heart sick with longing. +The forests vanish, and I hear no more the lambs' bleat or the +rustling of the fleeces. Voices from a thousand depths call me; +they whisper, they beseech me. Shadows more lovely than earth's +children utter music, not for me though I faint while I listen. +Father, why do I hear the things others hear not--voices calling +to unknown hunters of wide fields, or to herdsmen, shepherds of +the starry flocks?" + +Apollo answered the shepherd: "Damon, a song stole from the silence +while the gods were not yet, and a thousand ages passed ere they +came, called forth by the music; and a thousand ages they listened, +and then joined in the song. Then began the worlds to glimmer +shadowy about them, and bright beings to bow before them. These, +their children, began in their turn to sing the song that calls +forth and awakens life. He is master of all things who has learned +their music. Damon, heed not the shadows, but the voices. The +voices have a message to thee from beyond the gods. Learn their +song and sing it over again to the people until their hearts, too, +grow sick with longing, and they can hear the song within themselves. +Oh, my son, I see far off how the nations shall join in it as in a +chorus, and, hearing it, the rushing planets shall cease from their +speed and be steadfast. Men shall hold starry sway." + +The face of the god shone through the face of the old man, and it +was so full of secretness that, filled with awe, Damon, the herdsman, +passed from the presence, and a strange fire was kindled in his heart. +The songs that he sang thereafter caused childhood and peace to pass +from the dwellers in the woods. + +Then the two lovers, Dion and Nemra, came in and stood before Apollo, +and Dion spake: "Father, you who are so wise can tell us what love +is, so that we shall never miss it. Old Tithonus nods his gray head +at us as we pass. He says only with the changeless gods has love +endurance, and for men the loving time is short, and its sweetness +is soon over." + +Neaera added: "But it is not true, father, for his drowsy eyes +light when he remembers the old days, when he was happy and proud +in love as we are." + +Apollo answered: "My children, I will tell you the legend how love +came into the world, and how it may endure. On high Olympus the +gods held council at the making of man, and each had brought a gift, +and each gave to man something of their own nature. Aphrodite, +the loveliest and sweetest, paused, and was about to add a new +grace to his person; but Eros cried: 'Let them not be so lovely +without; let them be lovelier within. Put your own soul in, O +mother.' The mighty mother smiled, and so it was. And now, whenever +love is like hers, which asks not return, but shines on all because +it must, within that love Aphrodite dwells, and it becomes immortal +by her presence." + +Then Dion and Neaera went out, and as they walked home through the +forest, purple and vaporous in the evening light, they drew closer +together. Dion, looking into the eyes of Neaera, saw there a new +gleam, violet, magical, shining--there was the presence of Aphrodite; +there was her shrine. + +After came in unto Apollo the two grand-children of old Tithonus, +and they cried: "See the flowers we have brought you! We gathered +them for you in the valley where they grow best!" Apollo said: "What +wisdom shall we give to children that they may remember? Our most +beautiful for them!" And as he stood and looked at them the mask +of age and secretness vanished. He appeared radiant in light. They +laughed in joy at his beauty. Bending down he kissed each upon the +forehead, then faded away into the light which is his home. + +As the sun sank down amid the blue hills, the old priest awoke with +a sigh, and cried out: "Oh, that we could talk wisely as we do in +our dreams!" + +1893 + + + + +THE CAVE OF LILITH + + +Out of her cave came the ancient Lilith; Lilith the wise; Lilith +the enchantress. There ran a little path outside her dwelling; it +wound away among the mountains and glittering peaks, and before the +door one of the Wise Ones walked to and fro. Out of her cave came +Lilith, scornful of his solitude, exultant in her wisdom, flaunting +her shining and magical beauty. + +"Still alone, star gazer! Is thy wisdom of no avail? Thou hast +yet to learn that I am more powerful, knowing the ways of error, +than you who know the ways of truth." + +The Wise One heeded her not, but walked to and fro. His eyes were +turned to the distant peaks, the abode of his brothers. The starlight +fell about him; a sweet air came down the mountain path, fluttering +his white robe; he did not cease from his steady musing. Lilith +wavered in her cave like a mist rising between rocks. Her raiment +was violet, with silvery gleams. Her face was dim, and over her +head rayed a shadowy diadem, like that which a man imagines over +the head of his beloved: and one looking closer at her face would +have seen that this was the crown he reached out to; that the eyes +burnt with his own longing; that the lips were parted to yield +to the secret wishes of his heart. + +"Tell me, for I would know, why do you wait so long? I, here in +my cave between the valley and the height, blind the eyes of all +who would pass. Those who by chance go forth to you, come back +to me again, and but one in ten thousand passes on. My illusions +are sweeter to them than truth. I offer every soul its own shadow. +I pay them their own price. I have grown rich, though the simple +shepards of old gave me birth. Men have made me; the mortals +have made me immortal. I rose up like a vapor from their first +dreams, and every sigh since then and every laugh remains with me. +I am made up of hopes and fears. The subtle princes lay out their +plans of conquest in my cave, and there the hero dreams, and there +the lovers of all time write in flame their history. I am wise, +holding all experience, to tempt, to blind, to terrify. None shall +pass by. Why, therefore, dost thou wait?" + +The Wise One looked at her, and she shrank back a little, and a +little her silver and violet faded, but out of her cave her voice +still sounded: + +"The stars and the starry crown are not yours alone to offer, and +every promise you make I make also. I offer the good and the bad +indifferently. The lover, the poet, the mystic, and all who would +drink of the first fountain, I delude with my mirage. I was the +Beatrice who led Dante upwards: the gloom was in me, and the glory +was mine also, and he went not out of my cave. The stars and the +shining of heaven were illusions of the infinite I wove about him. +I captured his soul with the shadow of space; a nutshell would +have contained the film. I smote on the dim heart-chords the +manifold music of being. God is sweeter in the human than the +human in God. Therefore he rested in me." + +She paused a little, and then went on: "There is that fantastic +fellow who slipped by me. Could your wisdom not retain him? He +returned to me full of anguish, and I wound my arms round him like +a fair melancholy; and now his sadness is as sweet to him as hope +was before his fall. Listen to his song!" She paused again. A +voice came up from the depths chanting a sad knowledge: + + What of all the will to do? + It has vanished long ago, + For a dream-shaft pierced it through + From the Unknown Archer's bow. + + What of all the soul to think? + Some one offered it a cup + Filled with a diviner drink, + And the flame has burned it up. + + What of all the hope to climb? + Only in the self we grope + To the misty end of time, + Truth has put an end to hope. + + What of all the heart to love? + Sadder than for will or soul, + No light lured it on above: + Love has found itself the whole. + +"Is it not pitiful? I pity only those who pity themselves. Yet +he is mine more surely than ever. This is the end of human wisdom. +How shall he now escape? What shall draw him up?" + +"His will shall awaken," said the Wise One. "I do not sorrow over +him, for long is the darkness before the spirit is born. He learns +in your caves not to see, not to hear, not to think, for very +anguish flying your illusions." + +"Sorrow is a great bond," Lilith said. + +It is a bond to the object of sorrow. He weeps what thou canst +never give him, a life never breathed in thee. He shall come forth, +and thou shalt not see him at the time of passing. When desire +dies the swift and invisible will awakens. He shall go forth; +and one by one the dwellers in your caves will awaken and pass +onward. This small old path will be trodden by generation after +generation. Thou, too, O shining Lilith, shalt follow, not as +mistress, but as handmaiden." + +"I will weave spells," Lilith cried. "They shall never pass me. +I will drug them with the sweetest poison. They shall rest drowsily +and content as of old. Were they not giants long ago, mighty men +and heroes? I overcame them with young enchantment. Shall they +pass by feeble and longing for bygone joys, for the sins of their +exultant youth, while I have grown into a myriad wisdom?" + +The Wise One walked to and fro as before, and there was silence: +and I saw that with steady will he pierced the tumultuous gloom of +the cave, and a spirit awoke here and there from its dream. And I +though I saw that Sad Singer become filled with a new longing for +true being, and that the illusions of good and evil fell from him, +and that he came at last to the knees of the Wise One to learn the +supreme truth. In the misty midnight I hear these three voices-- +the Sad Singer, the Enchantress Lilith, and the Wise One. From +the Sad Singer I learned that thought of itself leads nowhere, but +blows the perfume from every flower, and cuts the flower from every +tree, and hews down every tree from the valley, and in the end goes +to and fro in waste places--gnawing itself in a last hunger. I +learned from Lilith that we weave our own enchantment, and bind +ourselves with out own imagination. To think of the true as beyond +us or to love the symbol of being is to darken the path to wisdom, +and to debar us from eternal beauty. From the Wise One I learned +that the truest wisdom is to wait, to work, and to will in secret. +Those who are voiceless today, tomorrow shall be eloquent, and the +earth shall hear them and her children salute them. Of these three +truths the hardest to learn is the silent will. Let us seek for +the highest truth. + +1894 + + + + +THE STORY OF A STAR + + +The emotions that haunted me in that little cathedral town would +be most difficult to describe. After the hurry, rattle, and fever +of the city, the rare weeks spent here were infinitely peaceful. +They were full of a quaint sense of childhood, with sometimes a +deeper chord touched--the giant and spiritual things childhood has +dreams of. The little room I slept in had opposite its window the +great gray cathedral wall; it was only in the evening that the +sunlight crept round it and appeared in the room strained through +the faded green blind. It must have been this silvery quietness +of color which in some subtle way affected me with the feeling of +a continual Sabbath; and this was strengthened by the bells chiming +hour after hour. The pathos, penitence, and hope expressed by the +flying notes colored the intervals with faint and delicate memories. +They haunted my dreams, and I heard with unutterable longing the +dreamy chimes pealing from some dim and vast cathedral of the cosmic +memory, until the peace they tolled became almost a nightmare, and +I longed for utter oblivion or forgetfulness of their reverberations. + +More remarkable were the strange lapses into other worlds and times. +Almost as frequent as the changing of the bells were the changes +from state to state. I realized what is meant by the Indian +philosophy of Maya. Truly my days were full of Mayas, and my +work-a-day city life was no more real to me than one of those bright, +brief glimpses of things long past. I talk of the past, and yet +these moments taught me how false our ideas of time are. In the Ever- +living yesterday, today, and tomorrow are words of no meaning. I +know I fell into what we call the past and the things I counted as +dead for ever were the things I had yet to endure. Out of the old +age of earth I stepped into its childhood, and received once more +the primal blessing of youth, ecstasy, and beauty. But these things +are too vast and vague to speak of, the words we use today cannot +tell their story. Nearer to our time is the legend that follows. + +I was, I thought, one of the Magi of old Persia, inheritor of its +unforgotten lore, and using some of its powers. I tried to pierce +through the great veil of nature, and feel the life that quickened +it within. I tried to comprehend the birth and growth of planets, +and to do this I rose spiritually and passed beyond earth's confines +into that seeming void which is the Matrix where they germinate. +On one of these journeys I was struck by the phantasm, so it seemed, +of a planet I had not observed before. I could not then observe +closer, and coming again on another occasion it had disappeared. +After the lapse of many months I saw it once more, brilliant with +fiery beauty. Its motion was slow, revolving around some invisible +centre. I pondered over it, and seemed to know that the invisible +centre was its primordial spiritual state, from which it emerged a +little while and into which it then withdrew. Short was its day; +its shining faded into a glimmer, and then into darkness in a few +months. I learned its time and cycles; I made preparations and +determined to await its coming. + + +The Birth of a Planet + +At first silence and then an inner music, and then the sounds of +song throughout the vastness of its orbit grew as many in number +as there were stars at gaze. Avenues and vistas of sound! They +reeled to and fro. They poured from a universal stillness quick +with unheard things. They rushed forth and broke into a myriad +voices gay with childhood. From age and the eternal they rushed +forth into youth. They filled the void with reveling and exultation. +In rebellion they then returned and entered the dreadful Fountain. +Again they came forth, and the sounds faded into whispers; they +rejoiced once again, and again died into silence. + +And now all around glowed a vast twilight; it filled the cradle +of the planet with colorless fire. I felt a rippling motion which +impelled me away from the centre to the circumference. At that +began to curdle, a milky and nebulous substance rocked to and fro. +At every motion the pulsation of its rhythm carried it farther and +farther away from the centre; it grew darker, and a great purple +shadow covered it so that I could see it no longer. I was now on +the outer verge, where the twilight still continued to encircle +the planet with zones of clear transparent light. + +As night after night I rose up to visit it they grew many-colored +and brighter. I saw the imagination of nature visibly at work. I +wandered through shadowy immaterial forests, a titanic vegetation +built up of light and color; I saw it growing denser, hung with +festoons and trailers of fire, and spotted with the light of myriad +flowers such as earth never knew. Coincident with the appearance +of these things I felt within myself, as if in harmonious movement, +a sense of joyousness, an increase of self-consciousness: I felt +full of gladness, youth, and the mystery of the new. I felt that +greater powers were about to appear, those who had thrown outwards +this world and erected it as a place in space. + +I could not tell half the wonder of this strange race. I could not +myself comprehend more than a little of the mystery of their being. +They recognized my presence there, and communicated with me in such +a way that I can only describe it by saying that they seemed to +enter into my soul, breathing a fiery life; yet I knew that the +highest I could reach to was but the outer verge of their spiritual +nature, and to tell you but a little I have many times to translate it; +for in the first unity with their thought I touched on an almost +universal sphere of life, I peered into the ancient heart that beats +throughout time; and this knowledge became change in me, first into +a vast and nebulous symbology, and so down through many degrees of +human thought into words which hold not at all the pristine and +magical beauty. + +I stood before one of this race, and I thought, "What is the meaning +and end of life here?" Within me I felt the answering ecstasy that +illuminated with vistas of dawn and rest: It seemed to say: + +"Our spring and our summer are unfolding into light and form, and +our autumn and winter are a fading into the infinite soul." + +I questioned in my heart, "To what end is this life poured forth +and withdrawn?" + +He came nearer and touched me; once more I felt the thrill of being +that changed itself into vision. + +"The end is creation, and creation is joy. The One awakens out of +quiescence as we come forth, and knows itself in us; as we return +we enter it in gladness, knowing ourselves. After long cycles the +world you live in will become like ours; it will be poured forth +and withdrawn; a mystic breath, a mirror to glass your being." + +He disappeared while I wondered what cyclic changes would transmute +our ball of mud into the subtle substance of thought. + +In that world I dared not stay during its period of withdrawal; +having entered a little into its life, I became subject to its laws; +the Powers on its return would have dissolved my being utterly. I +felt with a wild terror its clutch upon me, and I withdrew from the +departing glory, from the greatness that was my destiny--but not yet. + +From such dreams I would be aroused, perhaps, by a gentle knock at +my door, and my little cousin Margaret's quaint face would peep in +with a "Cousin Robert, are you not coming down to supper?" + +Of these visions in the light of after thought I would speak a +little. All this was but symbol, requiring to be thrice sublimed +in interpretation ere its true meaning can be grasped. I do not +know whether worlds are heralded by such glad songs, or whether +any have such a fleeting existence, for the mind that reflects +truth is deluded with strange phantasies of time and place in +which seconds are rolled out into centuries and long cycles are +reflected in an instant of time. There is within us a little space +through which all the threads of the universe are drawn; and, +surrounding that incomprehensible centre, the mind of man sometimes +catches glimpses of things which are true only in those glimpses; +when we record them the true has vanished, and a shadowy story-- +such as this--alone remains. Yet, perhaps, the time is not +altogether wasted in considering legends like these, for they +reveal, though but in phantasy and symbol, a greatness we are heirs +to, a destiny which is ours though it be yet far away. + +1894 + + + + + +A DREAM OF ANGUS OGE + + +The day had been wet and wild, and the woods looked dim and drenched +from the window where Con sat. All the day long his ever restless +feet were running to the door in a vain hope of sunshine. His sister, +Norah, to quiet him had told him over and over again the tales which +delighted him, the delight of hearing which was second only to the +delight of living them over himself, when as Cuculain he kept the +ford which led to Ulla, his sole hero heart matching the hosts of +Meave; or as Fergus he wielded the sword of light the Druids made +and gave to the champion, which in its sweep shore away the crests +of the mountains; or as Brian, the ill-fated child of Turann, he +went with his brothers in the ocean-sweeping boat farther than ever +Columbus traveled, winning one by one in dire conflict with kings +and enchanters the treasures which would appease the implacable +heart of Lu. + +He had just died in a corner of the room from his many wounds when +Norah came in declaring that all these famous heroes must go to bed. +He protested in vain, but indeed he was sleepy, and before he had +been carried half-way to the room the little soft face drooped with +half-closed eyes, while he drowsily rubbed his nose upon her shoulder +in an effort to keep awake. For a while she flitted about him, +looking, with her dark, shadowy hair flickering in the dim, silver +light like one of the beautiful heroines of Gaelic romance, or one +of the twilight, race of the Sidhe. Before going she sat by his +bed and sang to him some verses of a song, set to an old Celtic +air whose low intonations were full of a half-soundless mystery: + + Over the hill-tops the gay lights are peeping; + Down in the vale where the dim fleeces stray + Ceases the smoke from the hamlet upcreeping: + Come, thou, my shepherd, and lead me away. + +"Who's the shepherd?" said the boy, suddenly sitting up. + +"Hush, alannah, I will tell you another time." She continued +still more softly: + + Lord of the Wand, draw forth from the darkness, + Warp of the silver, and woof of the gold: + Leave the poor shade there bereft in its starkness: + Wrapped in the fleece we will enter the Fold. + + There from the many-orbed heart where the Mother + Breathes forth the love on her darlings who roam, + We will send dreams to their land of another + Land of the Shining, their birthplace and home. + +He would have asked a hundred questions, but she bent over him, +enveloping him with a sudden nightfall of hair, to give him his +good-night kiss, and departed. Immediately the boy sat up again; +all his sleepiness gone. The pure, gay, delicate spirit of childhood +was darting at ideas dimly perceived in the delicious moonlight of +romance which silvered his brain, where may airy and beautiful +figures were moving: The Fianna with floating locks chasing the +flying deer; shapes more solemn, vast, and misty, guarding the +avenues to unspeakable secrets; but he steadily pursued his idea. + +"I guess he's one of the people who take you away to faeryland. +Wonder if he'd come to me? Think it's easy going away," with an +intuitive perception of the frailty of the link binding childhood +to earth in its dreams. (As a man Con will strive with passionate +intensity to regain that free, gay motion in the upper airs.) +"Think I'll try if he'll come," and he sang, with as near an +approach as he could make to the glimmering cadences of his +sister's voice: + + Come, thou, my shepherd, and lead me away. + +He then lay back quite still and waited. He could not say whether +hours or minutes had passed, or whether he had slept or not, until +he was aware of a tall golden-bearded man standing by his bed. +Wonderfully light was this figure, as if the sunlight ran through +his limbs; a spiritual beauty was on the face, and those strange +eyes of bronze and gold with their subtle intense gaze made Con +aware for the first time of the difference between inner and out +in himself. + +"Come, Con, come away!" the child seemed to hear uttered silently. + +"You're the Shepherd!" said Con, "I'll go." Then suddenly, "I won't +come back and be old when they're all dead?" a vivid remembrance of +Ossian's fate flashing upon him. + +A most beautiful laughter, which again to Con seemed half soundless, +came in reply. His fears vanished; the golden-bearded man stretched +a hand over him for a moment, and he found himself out in the night, +now clear and starlit. Together they moved on as if borne by the +wind, past many woods and silver-gleaming lakes, and mountains which +shone like a range of opals below the purple skies. The Shepherd +stood still for a moment by one of these hills, and there flew out, +riverlike, a melody mingled with a tinkling as of innumerable elfin +hammers, and there, was a sound of many gay voices where an unseen +people were holding festival, or enraptured hosts who were let loose +for the awakening, the new day which was to dawn, for the delighted +child felt that faeryland was come over again with its heroes +and battles. + +"Our brothers rejoice," said the Shepherd to Con. + +"Who are they?" asked the boy. + +"They are the thoughts of our Father." + +"May we go in?" Con asked, for he was fascinated by the melody, +mystery, and flashing lights. + +"Not now. We are going to my home where I lived in the days past +when there came to me many kings and queens of ancient Eire, many +heroes and beautiful women, who longed for the Druid wisdom we taught." + +"And did you fight like Finn, and carry spears as tall as trees, +and chase the deer through the Woods, and have feastings and singing?" + +"No, we, the Dananns, did none of those things--but those who were +weary of battle, and to whom feast and song brought no pleasure, +came to us and passed hence to a more wonderful land, a more immortal +land than this." + +As he spoke he paused before a great mound, grown over with trees, +and around it silver clear in the moonlight were immense stones piled, +the remains of an original circle, and there was a dark, low, narrow +entrance leading within. He took Con by the hand, and in an instant +they were standing in a lofty, cross-shaped cave, built roughly of +huge stones. + +"This was my palace. In days past many a one plucked here the purple +flower of magic and the fruit of the tree of life." + +"It is very dark," said the child disconsolately. He had expected +something different. + +"Nay, but look: you will see it is the palace of a god." And even +as he spoke a light began to glow and to pervade the cave and to +obliterate the stone walls and the antique hieroglyphs engraved +thereon, and to melt the earthen floor into itself like a fiery +sun suddenly uprisen within the world, and there was everywhere a +wandering ecstasy of sound: light and sound were one; light had +a voice, and the music hung glittering in the air. + +"Look, how the sun is dawning for us, ever dawning; in the earth, +in our hearts, with ever youthful and triumphant voices. Your sun +is but a smoky shadow, ours the ruddy and eternal glow; yours is +far way, ours is heart and hearth and home; yours is a light without, +ours a fire within, in rock, in river, in plain, everywhere living, +everywhere dawning, whence also it cometh that the mountains emit +their wondrous rays." + +As he spoke he seemed to breathe the brilliance of that mystical +sunlight and to dilate and tower, so that the child looked up to a +giant pillar of light, having in his heart a sun of ruddy gold which +shed its blinding rays about him, and over his head there was a +waving of fiery plumage and on his face an ecstasy of beauty and +immortal youth. + +"I am Angus," Con heard; "men call me the Young. I am the sunlight +in the heart, the moonlight in the mind; I am the light at the end +of every dream, the voice for ever calling to come away; I am the +desire beyond you or tears. Come with me, come with me, I will +make you immortal; for my palace opens into the Gardens of the Sun, +and there are the fire-fountains which quench the heart's desire +in rapture." And in the child's dream he was in a palace high as +the stars, with dazzling pillars jeweled like the dawn, and all +fashioned out of living and trembling opal. And upon their thrones +sat the Danann gods with their sceptres and diadems of rainbow light, +and upon their faces infinite wisdom and imperishable youth. In +the turmoil and growing chaos of his dream he heard a voice crying +out, "You remember, Con, Con, Conaire Mor, you remember!" and in +an instant he was torn from himself and had grown vaster, and was +with the Immortals, seated upon their thrones, they looking upon +him as a brother, and he was flying away with them into the heart +of the gold when he awoke, the spirit of childhood dazzled with +the vision which is too lofty for princes. + +1897 + + + + + +DEIRDRE + + +A LEGEND IN THREE ACTS + + +Dramatis Personae: + +CONCOBAR ............... Ardrie of Ulla. +NAISI +AINLE, ARDAN ......................... Brothers of Naisi. +FERGUS +BUINNE, ILANN ...................... Sons of Fergus +CATHVAH ...................... A Druid +DEIRDRE +LAVARCAN ................................ A Druidess +Herdsman, Messenger ............. + + + +ACT I. + + +SCENE.--The dun of DEIRDRE'S captivity. LAVARCAM, a Druidess, sits +before the door in the open air. DEIRDRE comes out of the dun. + +DEIRDRE--Dear fostermother, how the spring is beginning! The music +of the Father's harp is awakening the flowers. Now the winter's +sleep is over, and the spring flows from the lips of the harp. Do +you not feel the thrill in the wind--a joy answering the trembling +strings? Dear fostermother, the spring and the music are in my heart! + +LAVARCAM--The harp has but three notes; and, after sleep and laughter, +the last sound is of weeping. + +DEIRDRE--Why should there be any sorrow while I am with you? I am +happy here. Last night in a dream I saw the blessed Sidhe upon +the mountains, and they looked on me with eyes of love. + +(An old HERDSMAN enters, who bows before LAVARCAM.) + +HERDSMAN--Lady, the High King is coming through the woods. + +LAVARCAM--Deirdre, go to the grianan for a little. You shall tell +me your dream again, my child. + +DEIRDRE--Why am I always hidden from the King's sight. + +LAVARCAM--It is the King's will you should see no one except these +aged servants. + +DEIRDRE--Am I indeed fearful to look upon, foster-mother? I do not +think so, or you would not love me. + +LAVARCAM--It is the King's will. + +DEIRDRE--Yet why must it be so, fostermother? Why must I hide away? +Why must I never leave the valley? + +LAVARCAM--It is the king's will. + +While she is speaking CONCOBAR enters. He stands still and looks +on DEIRDRE. DEIRDRE gazes on the KING for a moment, and then +covering her face with her hands, she hurries into the dun. The +HERDSMAN goes out. LAVARCAM sees and bows before the KING. + +CONCOBAR--Lady, is all well with you and your charge? + +LAVARCAM--All is well. + +CONCOBAR--Is there peace in Deirdre's heart? + +LAVARCAM--She is happy, not knowing a greater happiness than to +roam the woods or to dream of the immortal ones can bring her. + +CONCOBAR--Fate has not found her yet hidden in this valley. + +LAVARCAM--Her happiness is to be here. But she asks why must she +never leave the glen. Her heart quickens within her. Like a bird +she listens to the spring, and soon the valley will be narrow as a cage. + +CONCOBAR--I cannot open the cage. Less ominous the Red Swineherd +at a feast than this beautiful child in Ulla. You know the word +of the Druids at her birth. + +LAVARCAM--Aye, through her would come the destruction of the Red +Branch. But sad is my heart, thinking of her lonely youth. + +CONCOBAR--The gods did not guide us how the ruin might be averted. +The Druids would have slain her, but I set myself against the wise +ones, thinking in my heart that the chivalry of the Red Branch would +be already gone if this child were slain. If we are to perish it +shall be nobly, and without any departure from the laws of our order. +So I have hidden her away from men, hoping to stay the coming of fate. + +LAVARCAM--King, your mercy will return to you, and if any of the +Red Branch fall, you will not fall. + +CONCOBAR--If her thoughts turned only to the Sidhe her heart would +grow cold to the light love that warriors give. The birds of Angus +cannot breathe or sing their maddening song in the chill air that +enfolds the wise. For this, Druidess, I made thee her fosterer. +Has she learned to know the beauty of the ever-living ones, after +which the earth fades and no voice can call us back? + +LAVARCAM--The immortals have appeared to her in vision and looked +on her with eyes of love. + +CONCOBAR--Her beauty is so great it would madden whole hosts, and +turn them from remembrance of their duty. We must guard well the +safety of the Red Branch. Druidess, you have seen with subtle eyes +the shining life beyond this. But through the ancient traditions +of Ulla, which the bards have kept and woven into song, I have seen +the shining law enter men's minds, and subdue the lawless into love +of justice. A great tradition is shaping a heroic race; and the +gods who fought at Moytura are descending and dwelling in the heart +of the Red Branch. Deeds will be done in our time as mighty as +those wrought by the giants who battled at the dawn; and through +the memory of our days and deeds the gods will build themselves an +eternal empire in the mind of the Gael. Wise woman, guard well +this beauty which fills my heart with terror. I go now, and will +doubly warn the spearmen at the passes, but will come hither again +and speak with thee of these things, and with Deirdre I would speak also. + +LAVARCAM--King of Ulla, be at peace. It is not I who will break +through the design of the gods. (CONCOBAR goes through the woods, +after looking for a time at the door of the dun.) But Deirdre is +also one of the immortals. What the gods desire will utter itself +through her heart. I will seek counsel from the gods. + +[DEIRDRE comes slowly through the door.] + +DEIRDRE--Is he gone? I fear this stony king with his implacable eyes. + +LAVARVAM--He is implacable only in his desire for justice. + +DEIRDRE--No! No! There is a hunger in his eyes for I know not what. + +LAVARCAM--He is the wisest king who ever sat on the chair of Macha. + +DEIRDRE--He has placed a burden on my heart. Oh! fostermother, the +harp of life is already trembling into sorrow! + +LAVARCAM--Do not think of him. Tell me your dream, my child. + +[DEIRDRE comes from the door of the dun and sits on a deerskin at +LAVARCAM's feet.] + +DEIRDRE--Tell me, do happy dreams bring happiness, and do our +dreams of the Sidhe ever grow real to us as you are real to me? Do +their eyes draw nigh to ours, and can the heart we dream of ever be +a refuge for our hearts. + +LAVARCAM--Tell me your dream. + +DEIRDRE--Nay; but answer first of all, dear fostermother--you who +are wise, and who have talked with the Sidhe. + +LAVARCAM--Would it make you happy to have your dream real, my darling? + +DEIRDRE--Oh, it would make me happy! + +[She hides her face on LAVARCAM's knees.] + +LAVARCAM--If I can make your dream real, I will, my beautiful fawn. + +DEIRDRE--Dear fostermother, I think my dream is coming near to +me. It is coming to me now. + +LAVARCAM--Deirdre, tell me what hope has entered your heart? + +DEIRDRE--In the night I saw in a dream the top of the mountain yonder, +beyond the woods, and three hunters stood there in the dawn. The sun +sent its breath upon their faces, but there was a light about them +never kindled at the sun. They were surely hunters from some heavenly +field, or the three gods whom Lu condemned to wander in mortal form, +and they are come again to the world to seek some greater treasure. + +LAVARCAM--Describe to me these immortal hunters. In Eire we know +no gods who take such shape appearing unto men. + +DEIRDRE--I cannot now make clear to thee my remembrance of two of +the hunters, but the tallest of the three--oh, he stood like a flame +against the flameless sky, and the whole sapphire of the heavens +seemed to live in his fearless eyes! His hair was darker than the +raven's wing, his face dazzling in its fairness. He pointed with +his great flame-bright spear to the valley. His companions seemed +in doubt, and pointed east and west. Then in my dream I came nigh +him and whispered in his ear, and pointed the way through the valley +to our dun. I looked into his eyes, and he started like one who +sees a vision; and I know, dear fostermother, he will come here, +and he will love me. Oh, I would die if he did not love me! + +LAVARCAM--Make haste, my child, and tell me was there aught else +memorable about this hero and his companions? + +DEIRDRE--Yes, I remember each had the likeness of a torch shedding +rays of gold embroidered on the breast. + +LAVARCAM--Deirdre, Deirdre, these are no phantoms, but living heroes! +O wise king, the eyes of the spirit thou wouldst open have seen +farther than the eyes of the body thou wouldst blind! The Druid +vision has only revealed to this child her destiny. + +DEIRDRE--Why do you talk so strangely, fostermother? + +LAVARCAM--Concobar, I will not fight against the will of the immortals. +I am not thy servant, but theirs. Let the Red Branch fall! If the +gods scatter it they have chosen to guide the people of Ulla in +another I path. + +DEIRDRE--What has disturbed your mind, dear foster-mother? What +have I to do with the Red Branch? And why should the people of +Ulla fall because of me? + +LAVARCAM--O Deirdre, there were no warriors created could overcome +the Red Branch. The gods have but smiled on this proud chivalry +through thine eyes, and they are already melted. The waving of +thy hand is more powerful to subdue than the silver rod of the +king to sustain. Thy golden hair shall be the flame to burn up Ulla. + +DEIDRE--Oh, what do you mean by these fateful prophecies? You fill +me with terror. Why should a dream so gentle and sweet portend sorrow? + +LAVARCAM--Dear golden head, cast sorrow aside for a time. The +Father has not yet struck the last chords on the harp of life. +The chords of joy have but begun for thee. + +DEIRDRE--You confuse my mind, dear fostermother, with your speech +of joy and sorrow. It is not your wont. Indeed, I think my dream +portends joy. + +LAVARCAM--It is love, Deirdre, which is coming to thee. Love, which +thou hast never known. + +DEIRDRE--But I love thee, dearest and kindest of guardians. + +LAVARCAM--Oh, in this love heaven and earth will be forgotten, and +your own self unremembered, or dim and far off as a home the spirit +fives in no longer. + +DEIRDRE--Tell me, will the hunter from the hills come to us? I +think I could forget all for him. + +LAVARCAM--He is not one of the Sidhe, but the proudest and bravest +of the Red Branch, Naisi, son of Usna. Three lights of valor among +the Ultonians are Naisi and his brothers. + +DEIRDRE--Will he love me, fostermother, as you love me, and will +he live with us here? + +LAVARCAM--Nay, where he goes you must go, and he must fly afar to +live with you. But I will leave you now for a little, child, I +would divine the future. + +[LAVARCAM kisses DEIRDRE and goes within the dun. DEIRDRE walks +to and fro before the door. NAISI enters. He sees DEIRDRE, who +turns and looks at him, pressing her hands to her breast. Naisi +bows before DEIRDRE.] + +NAISI--Goddess, or enchantress, thy face shone on me at dawn on +the mountain. Thy lips called me hither, and I have come. + +DEIRDRE--I called thee, dear Naisi. + +NAISI--Oh, knowing my name, never before having spoken to me, thou +must know my heart also. + +DEIRDRE--Nay, I know not. Tell me what is in thy heart. + +NAISI--O enchantress, thou art there. The image of thine eyes is +there and thy smiling lips, and the beating of my heart is muffled +in a cloud of thy golden tresses. + +DEIRDRE--Say on, dear Naisi. + +NAISI--I have told thee all. Thou only art in my heart. + +DEIRDRE--But I have never ere this spoken to any man. Tell me more. + +NAISI--If thou hast never before spoken to any man, then indeed +art thou one of the immortals, and my hope is vain. Hast thou +only called me to thy world to extinguish my life hereafter in +memories of thee? + +DEIRDRE--What wouldst thou with me, dear Naisi? + +NAISI--I would carry thee to my dun by the sea of Moyle, O beautiful +woman, and set thee there on an ivory throne. The winter would not +chill thee there, nor the summer burn thee, for I would enfold thee +with my love, enchantress, if thou camest--to my world. Many +warriors are there of the clan Usna, and two brothers I have who +are strong above any hosts, and they would all die with me for thy sake. + +DEIRDRE (taking the hands of NAISI)--I will go with thee where thou +goest. (Leaning her head on NAISI's shoulder.) Oh, fostermother, +too truly hast thou spoken! I know myself not. My spirit has gone +from me to this other heart for ever. + +NAISI--Dost thou forego thy shining world for me? + +LAVARCAM--(coming out of the dun). Naisi, this is the Deirdre of +the prophecies. + +NAISI--Deirdre! Deirdre! I remember in some old tale of my childhood +that name. (Fiercely.) It was a lying prophecy. What has this girl +to do with the downfall of Ulla? + +LAVARCAM--Thou art the light of the Ultonian's, Naisi, but thou art +not the star of knowledge. The Druids spake truly. Through her, +but not through her sin, will come the destruction of the Red Branch. + +NAISI--I have counted death as nothing battling for the Red Branch; +and I would not, even for Deirdre, war upon my comrades. But Deirdre +I will not leave nor forget for a thousand prophecies made by the +Druids in their dotage. If the Red Branch must fall, it will fall +through treachery; but Deirdre I will love, and in my love is no +dishonor, nor any broken pledge. + +LAVARCAM--Remember, Naisi, the law of the king. It is death to +thee to be here. Concobar is even now in the woods, and will come +hither again. + +DEIRDRE--Is it death to thee to love me, Naisi? Oh, fly quickly, +and forget me. But first, before thou goest, bend down thy head-- +low--rest it on my bosom. Listen to the beating of my heart. That +passionate tumult is for thee! There, I have kissed thee. I have +sweet memories for ever-lasting. Go now, my beloved, quickly. I +fear--I fear for thee this stony king. + +NAISI--I do not fear the king, nor will I fly hence. It is due to +the chief of the Red Branch that I should stay and face him, having +set my mill against his. + +LAVARCAM--You cannot remain now. + +NAISI--It is due to the king. + +LAVARCAM--You must go; both must go. Do not cloud your heart with +dreams of a false honor. It is not your death only, but Deirdre's +which will follow. Do you think the Red Branch would spare her, +after your death, to extinguish another light of valor, and another +who may wander here? + +NAISI--I will go with Deirdre to Alba. + +DEIRDRE--Through life or to death I will go with thee, Naisi. + +[Voices of AINLE and ARDAN are heard in the wood.] + +ARDAN--I think Naisi went this way. + +AINLE--He has been wrapt in a dream since the dawn. See! This +is his footstep in the clay! + +ARDAN--I heard voices. + +AINLE--(entering with ARDAN) Here is our dream-led brother. + +NAISI--Ainle and Ardan, this is Deirdre, your sister. I have +broken through the command of the king, and fly with her to Alba +to avoid warfare with the Red Branch. + +ARDAN--Our love to thee, beautiful sister. + +AINLE--Dear maiden, thou art already in my heart with Naisi. + +LAVARCAM--You cannot linger here. With Concobar the deed follows +swiftly the counsel; tonight his spearmen will be on your track. + +NAISI--Listen, Ainle and Ardan. Go you to Emain Macha. It may be +the Red Branch will make peace between the king and myself. You +are guiltless in this flight. + +AINLE--Having seen Deirdre, my heart is with you, brother, and I +also am guilty. + +ARDAN--I think, being here, we, too, have broken the command of +the king. We will go with thee to Alba, dear brother and sister. + +LAVARCAM--Oh, tarry not, tarry not! Make haste while there is yet +time. The thoughts of the king are circling around Deirdre as +wolves around the fold. Try not the passes of the valley, but +over the hills. The passes are all filled with the spearmen of +the king. + +NAISI--We will carry thee over the mountains, Deirdre, and tomorrow +will see us nigh to the isles of Alba. + +DEIRDRE--Farewell, dear fostermother. I have passed the faery sea +since dawn, and have found the Island of Joy. Oh, see! what bright +birds are around us, with dazzling wings! Can you not hear their +singing? Oh, bright birds, make music for ever around my love and me! + +LAVARCAM--They are the birds of Angus. Their singing brings love-- +and death. + +DEIRDRE--Nay, death has come before love, dear fostermother, and +all I was has vanished like a dewdrop in the sun. Oh, beloved, +let us go. We are leaving death behind us in the valley. + +[DEIRDRE and the brothers go through the wood. LAVARCAM watches, +and when they are out of sight sits by the door of the dun with +her head bowed to her knees. After a little CONCOBAR enters.] + +CONCOBAR--Where is Deirdre? + +LAVARCAM--(not lifting her head). Deirdre has left death behind her, +and has entered into the Kingdom of her Youth. + +CONCOBAR--Do not speak to me in portents. Lift up your head, +Druidess. Where is Deirdre? + +LAVARCAM--(looking up). Deirdre is gone! + +CONCOBAR--By the high gods, tell me whither, and who has dared to +take her hence? + +LAVARCAM--She has fled with Naisi, son of Usna, and is beyond your +vengeance, king. + +CONCOBAR--Woman, I swear by Balor, Tethra, and all the brood of +demons, I will have such a vengeance a thousand years hereafter +shall be frightened at the tale. If the Red Branch is to fall, +it will sink at least in the seas of the blood of the clan Usna. + +LAVARCAM--O king, the doom of the Red Branch had already gone forth +when you suffered love for Deirdre to enter your heart. + +[Scene closes.] + + + + +ACT II. + + +SCENE.--In a dun by Loch Etive. Through the open door can be seen +lakes and wooded islands in a silver twilight. DEIRDRE stands at +the door looking over the lake. NAISI is within binding a spearhead +to the shaft. + +DEIRDRE--How still is the twihght! It is the sunset, not of one, +but of many days--so still, so still, so living! The enchantment +of Dana is upon the lakes and islands and woods, and the Great +Father looks down through the deepening heavens. + +NAISI--Thou art half of their world, beautiful woman, and it seems +fair to me, gazing on thine eyes. But when thou art not beside me +the flashing of spears is more to be admired than a whole heaven- +full of stars. + +DEIRDRE--O Naisi! still dost thou long, for the Red Branch and the +peril of battles and death. + +NAISI--Not for the Red Branch, nor the peril of battles, nor death, +do I long. But-- + +DEIRDRE--But what, Naisi? What memory of Eri hast thou hoarded +in thy heart? + +NAISI--(bending over his spear) It is nothing, Deirdre. + +DEIRDRE--It is a night of many days, Naisi. See, all the bright +day had hidden is revealed! Look, there! A star! and another star! +They could not see each other through the day, for the hot mists +of the sun were about them. Three years of the sun have we passed +in Alba, Naisi, and now, O star of my heart, truly do I see you, +this night of many days. + +NAISI--Though my breast lay clear as a crystal before thee, thou +couldst see no change in my heart. + +DEIRDRE--There is no change, beloved; but I see there one memory +warring on thy peace. + +NAISI--What is it then, wise woman? + +DEIRDRE--O Naisi, I have looked within thy heart, and thou hast +there imagined a king with scornful eyes thinking of thy flight. + +NAISI--By the gods, but it is true! I would give this kingdom I +have won in Alba to tell the proud monarch I fear him not. + +DEIRDRE--O Naisi, that thought will draw thee back to Eri, and to +I know not what peril and death beyond the seas. + +NAISI--I will not war on the Red Branch. They were ever faithful +comrades. Be at peace, Deirdre. + +DEIRDRE--Oh, how vain it is to say to the heart, "Be at peace," +when the heart will not rest! Sorrow is on me, beloved, and I +know not wherefore. It has taken the strong and fast place of my +heart, and sighs there hidden in my love for thee. + +NAISI--Dear one, the songs of Ainle and the pleasant tales of Ardan +will drive away thy sorrow. + +DEIRDRE--Ainle and Ardan! Where are they? They linger long. + +NAISI--They are watching a sail that set hitherward from the south. + +DEIRDRE--A sail! + +NAISI--A sail! What is there to startle thee in that? Have not a +thousand galleys lain in Loch Etive since I built this dun by the sea. + +DEIRDRE--I do not know, but my spirit died down in my heart as you +spake. I think the wind that brings it blows from Eri, and it is +it has brought sorrow to me. + +NAISI--My beautiful one, it is but a fancy. It is some merchant +comes hither to barter Tyrian cloths for the cunning work of our +smiths. But glad would I be if he came from Eri, and I would feast +him here for a night, and sit round a fire of turves and hear of +the deeds of the Red Branch. + +DEIRDRE--Your heart for ever goes out to the Red Branch, Naisi. +Were there any like unto thee, or Ainle, or Ardan? + +NAISI--We were accounted most skilful, but no one was held to be +braver than another. If there were one it was great Fergus who +laid aside the silver rod which he held as Ardrie of Ulla, but he +is in himself greater than any king. + +DEIRDRE--And does one hero draw your heart back to Eri? + +NAISI--A river of love, indeed, flows from my heart unto Fergus, +for there is no one more noble. But there were many others, Conal, +and the boy we called Cuculain, a dark, sad child, who was the +darling of the Red Branch, and truly he seemed like one who would be +a world-famous warrior. There were many held him to be a god in exile. + +DEIRDRE--I think we, too, are in exile in this world. But tell me +who else among the Red Branch do you think of with love? + +NAISI--There was the Ardrie, Concobar, whom ho man knows, indeed, +for he is unfathomable. But he is a wise king, though moody and +passionate at times, for he was cursed in his youth for a sin +against one of the Sidhe. + +DEIRDRE--Oh, do not speak of him! My heart falls at the thought +of him as into a grave, and I know I will die when we meet. + +NAISI--I know one who will die before that, my fawn. + +DEIRDRE--Naisi! You remember when we fled that night; as I lay +by thy side--thou wert yet strange to me--I heard voices speaking +out of the air. The great ones were invisible, yet their voices +sounded solemnly. "Our brother and our sister do not remember," +one said; and another spake: "They will serve the purpose all +the same," and there was more which I could not understand, but I +knew we were to bring some great gift to the Gael. Yesternight, +in a dream, I heard the voices again, and I cannot recall what they +said; but as I woke from sleep my pillow was wet with tears falling +softly, as out of another world, and I saw before me thy face, pale +and still, Naisi, and the king, with his implacable eyes. Oh, +pulse of my heart, I know the gift we shall give to the Gael will +be a memory to pity and sigh over, and I shall be the priestess of +tears. Naisi, promise me you will never go back to Ulla--swear +to me, Naisi. + +NAISI--I will, if-- + +[Here AINLE and ARDAN enter.] + +AINLE--Oh, great tidings, brother! + +DEIRDRE--I feel fate is stealing on us with the footsteps of those +we love. Before they speak, promise me, Naisi. + +AINLE--What is it, dear sister? Naisi will promise thee anything, +and if he does not we will make him do it all the same. + +DEIDRE--Oh, let me speak! Both Death and the Heart's Desire are +speeding to win the race. Promise me, Naisi, you will never +return to Ulla. + +ARDAN--Naisi, it were well to hear what tale may come from Emain +Macha. One of the Red Branch displays our banner on a galley from +the South. I have sent a boat to bring this warrior to our dun. +It may be Concobar is dead. + +DEIRDRE--Why should we return? Is not the Clan Usna greater here +than ever in Eri. + +AINLE--Dear sister, it is the land which gave us birth, which ever +like a mother whispered to us, and its whisper is sweeter than the +promise of beloved lips. Though we are kings here in Alba we are +exiles, and the heart is afar from its home. [A distant shout +is heard.] + +NAISI--I hear a call like the voice of a man of Eri. + +DEIRDRE--It is only a herdsman calling home his cattle. (She puts +her arms round NAISI's neck.) Beloved, am I become so little to +you that your heart is empty, and sighs for Eri? + +NAISI--Deirdre, in my flight I have brought with me many whose +desire is afar, while you are set as a star by my side. They have +left their own land and many a maiden sighs for the clansmen who +never return. There is also the shadow of fear on my name, because +I fled and did not face the king. Shall I swear to keep my comrades +in exile, and let the shame of fear rest on the chieftain of their clan? + +DEIRDRE--Can they not go? Are we not enough for each other, for +surely to me thou art hearth and home, and where thou art there +the dream ends, and beyond it. There is no other dream. [A voice +is heard without, more clearly calling.] + +AINLE--It is a familiar voice that calls! And I thought I heard +thy name, Naisi. + +ARDAN--It is the honey-sweet speech of a man of Eri. + +DEIRDRE--It is one of our own clansmen. Naisi, will you not speak? +The hour is passing, and soon there will be naught but a destiny. + +FERGUS--(without) Naisi! Naisi! + +NAISI--A deep voice, like the roar of a storm god! It is Fergus +who comes from Eri. + +ARDAN--He comes as a friend. There is no treachery in the Red Branch. + +AINLE.--Let us meet him, and give him welcome! [The brothers go +to the door of the dun. DEIRDRE leans against the wall with terror +in her eyes.] + +DEIRDRE--(in a low broken voice). Naisi! (NAISI returns to her +side. AINLE and ARDAN go out. DEIRDRE rests one hand on NAISI's +shoulders and with the other points upwards.) Do you not see them? +The bright birds which sang at our flight! Look, how they wheel +about us as they sing! What a heart-rending music! And their +plumage, Naisi! It is all dabbled with crimson; and they shake +a ruddy dew from their wings upon us! Your brow is stained with +the drops. Let me clear away the stains. They pour over your face +and hands. Oh! [She hides her face on NAISI's breast.] + +NAISI--Poor, frightened one, there are no birds! See, how clear +are my hands! Look again on my face. + +DEIRDRE--(looking up for an instant). Oh! blind, staring eyes. + +NAISI--Nay, they are filled with love, light of my heart. What +has troubled your mind? Am I not beside you, and a thousand +clansmen around our dun? + +DEIRDRE--They go, and the music dies out. What was it Lavarcam said? +Their singing brings love and death. + +NAISI--What matters death, for love will find us among the Ever +Living Ones. We are immortals and it does not become us to grieve. + +DEIRDRE--Naisi, there is some treachery in the coming of Fergus. + +NAISI--I say to you, Deirdre, that treachery is not to be spoken +of with Fergus. He was my fosterer, who taught me all a chieftain +should feel, and I shall not now accuse him on the foolish fancy +of a woman. (He turns from DEIRDRE, and as he nears the door +FERGUS enters with hands laid affectionately on a shoulder of each +of the brothers; BUINNE and ILANN follow.) Welcome, Fergus! Glad +is my heart at your coming, whether you bring good tidings or ill! + +FERGUS--I would not have crossed the sea of Moyle to bring thee +ill tidings, Naisi. (He sees DEIRDRE.) My coming has affrighted +thy lady, who shakes like the white wave trembling before its fall. +I swear to thee, Deirdre, that the sons of Usna are dear to me as +children to a father. + +DEIRDRE--The Birds of Angus showed all fiery and crimson as you came! + +BUINNE--If we are not welcome in this dun let us return! + +FERGUS--Be still, hasty boy. + +ILANN--The lady Deirdre has received some omen or warning on our +account. When the Sidhe declare their will, we should with due +awe consider it. + +ARDAN--Her mind has been troubled by a dream of some ill to Naisi. + +NAISI--It was not by dreaming evils that the sons of Usna grew to +be champions in Ulla. And I took thee to my heart, Deirdre, though +the Druids trembled to murmur thy name. + +FERGUS--If we listened to dreamers and foretellers the sword would +never flash from its sheath. In truth, I have never found the Sidhe +send omens to warriors; they rather bid them fly to herald our coming. + +DEIRDRE--And what doom comes with thee now that such omens fled +before thee? I fear thy coming, warrior. I fear the Lights of +Valor will be soon extinguished. + +FERGUS--Thou shalt smile again, pale princess, when thou hast heard +my tale. It is not to the sons of Usna I would bring sorrow. Naisi, +thou art free to return to Ulla. + +NAISI--Does the king then forego his vengeance? + +DEIRDRE--The king will never forego his vengeance. I have looked +on his face--the face of one who never changes his purpose. + +FERGUS--He sends forgiveness and greetings. + +DEIRDRE--O Naisi, he sends honied words by the mouth of Fergus, +but the pent-up death broods in his own heart. + +BUINNE--We were tempest-beaten, indeed, on the sea of Moyle, but +the storm of this girl's speech is more fearful to face. + +FERGUS--Your tongue is too swift, Buinne. I say to you, Deirdre, +that if all the kings of Eri brooded ill to Naisi, they dare not +break through my protection. + +NAISI--It is true, indeed, Fergus, though I have never asked any +protection save my own sword. It is a chill welcome you give to +Fergus and his sons, Deirdre. Ainle, tell them within to make ready +the feasting hall. [AINLE goes into an inner room.] + +DEIRDRE--I pray thy pardon, warrior. Thy love for Naisi I do not +doubt. But in this holy place there is peace, and the doom that +Cathvah the Druid cried cannot fall. And oh, I feel, too, there, +is One here among us who pushes us silently from the place of life, +and we are drifting away--away from the world, on a tide which goes +down into the darkness! + +ARDAN--The darkness is in your mind alone, poor sister. Great is +our joy to hear the message of Fergus. + +NAISI--It is not like the king to change his will. Fergus, what +has wrought upon his mind? + +FERGUS--He took counsel with the Druids and Lavarcam, and thereafter +spake at Emain Macha, that for no woman in the world should the sons +of Usna be apart from the Red Branch. And so we all spake joyfully; +and I have come with the king's message of peace, for he knew that +for none else wouldst thou return. + +NAISI--Surely, I will go with thee, Fergus. I long for the shining +eyes of friends and the fellowship of the Red Branch, and to see +my own country by the sea of Moyle. I weary of this barbarous +people in Alba. + +DEIRDRE--O children of Usna, there is death in your going! Naisi, +will you not stay the storm bird of sorrow? I forehear the falling +of tears that cease not, and in generations unborn the sorrow of +it all that will never be stilled! + +NAISI--Deirdre! Deirdre! It is not right for you, beautiful woman, +to come with tears between a thousand exiles and their own land! +Many battles have I fought, knowing well there would be death and +weeping after. If I feared to trust to the word of great kings +and warriors, it is not with tears I would be remembered. What +would the bards sing of Naisi--without trust! afraid of the +outstretched hand!--freighted by a woman's fears! By the gods, +before the clan Usna were so shamed I would shed my blood here +with my own hand. + +DEIRDRE--O stay, stay your anger! Have pity on me, Naisi! Your +words, like lightnings, sear my heart. Never again will I seek +to stay thee. But speak to me with love once more, Naisi. Do not +bend your brows on me with anger; for, oh! but a little time +remains for us to love! + +FERGUS--Nay, Deirdre, there are many years. Thou shalt yet +smile back on this hour in thy old years thinking of the love +and laughter between. + +AINLE--(entering) The feast is ready for our guests. + +ARDAN--The bards shall sing of Eri tonight. Let the harpers sound +their gayest music. Oh, to be back once more in royal Emain! + +NAISI--Come, Deirdre, forget thy fears. Come, Fergus, I long to +hear from thy lips of the Red Branch and Ulla. + +FERGUS--It is geasa with me not to refuse a feast offered by one +of the Red Branch. + +[FERGUS, BUINNE, ILANN, and the sons of Usna go into the inner room. +DEIRDRE remains silently standing for a time, as if stunned. The +sound of laughter and music floats in. She goes to the door of +the dun, looking out again over the lakes and islands.] + +DEIRDRE--Farewell O home of happy memories. Though thou art bleak +to Naisi, to me thou art bright. I shall never see thee more, save +as shadows we wander here, weeping over what is gone. Farewell, O +gentle people, who made music for me on the hills. The Father has +struck the last chord on the Harp of Life, and the music I shall +hear hereafter will be only sorrow. O Mother Dana, who breathed +up love through the dim earth to my heart, be with me where I am +going. Soon shall I lie close to thee for comfort, where many a +broken heart has lain and many a weeping head. [Music of harps +and laughter again floats in.] + +VOICES--Deirdre! Deirdre! Deirdre! + +[DEIRDRE leaves the door of the dun, and the scene closes as she +flings herself on a couch, burying her face in her arms.] + + + + +ACT III. + + +SCENE.--The House of the Red Branch at Emain Macha. There is a +door covered with curtains, through which the blue light of evening +can be seen. CONCOBAR sits at a table on which is a chessboard, +with figures arranged. LAVARCAM stands before the table. + +CONCOBAR--The air is dense with omens, but all is uncertain. Cathvah, +for all his Druid art, is uncertain, and cannot foresee the future; +and in my dreams, too, I again see Macha, who died at my feet, and +she passes by me with a secret exultant smile. O Druidess, is the +sin of my boyhood to be avenged by this woman who comes back to Eri +in a cloud of prophecy? + +LAVARCAM--The great beauty has passed from Deirdre in her wanderings +from place to place and from island to island. Many a time has she +slept on the bare earth ere Naisi won a kingdom for himself in Alba. +Surely the prophecy has already been fulfilled, for blood has been +shed for Deirdre, and the Red Branch divided on her account. To +Naisi the Red Branch are as brothers. Thou hast naught to fear. + +CONCOBAR--Well, I have put aside my fears and taken thy counsel, +Druidess. For the sake of the Red Branch I have forgiven the sons +of Usna. Now, I will call together the Red Branch, for it is my +purpose to bring the five provinces under our sway, and there shall +be but one kingdom in Eri between the seas. [A distant shouting of +many voices is heard. LAVARCAM starts, clasping her hands.] + +Why dost thou start, Druidess? Was it not foretold from of old, +that the gods would rule over one people in Eri? I sometimes think +the warrior soul of Lu shines through the boy Cuculain, who, after +me, shall guide the Red Branch; aye, and with him are many of the +old company who fought at Moytura, come back to renew the everlasting +battle. Is not this the Isle of Destiny, and the hour at hand? [The +clamor is again renewed.] + +What, is this clamor as if men hailed a king? (Calls.) Is there +one without there? (ILANN enters.) Ah! returned from Alba with +the fugitives! + +ILANN--King, we have fulfilled our charge. The sons of Usna are with +us in Emain Macha. Whither is it your pleasure they should be led? + +CONCOBAR--They shall be lodged here, in the House of the Red Branch. +(ILANN is about to withdraw.) Yet, wait, what mean all these cries +as of astonished men? + +ILANN--The lady, Deirdre, has come with us, and her beauty is a +wonder to the gazers in the streets, for she moves among them like +one of the Sidhe, whiter than ivory, with long hair of gold, and her +eyes, like the blue flame of twilight, make mystery in their hearts. + +CONCOBAR--(starting up) This is no fading beauty who returns! You +hear, Druidess! + +ILANN--Ardrie of Ulla, whoever has fabled to thee that the beauty +of Deirdre is past has lied. She is sorrowful, indeed, but her +sadness only bows the heart to more adoration than her joy, and +pity for her seems sweeter than the dream of love. Fading! Yes, +her yesterday fades behind her every morning, and every changing +mood seems only an unveiling to bring her nearer to the golden +spirit within. But how could I describe Deirdre? In a little +while she will be here, and you shall see her with your own eyes. +[ILLAN bows and goes out] + +CONCOBAR--I will, indeed, see her with my own eyes. I will not, +on the report of a boy, speak words that shall make the Red Branch +to drip with blood. I will see with my own eyes. (He goes to +the door.) But I swear to thee, Druidess, if thou hast plotted +deceit a second time with Naisi, that all Eri may fall asunder, +but I will be avenged. + +[He holds the curtain aside with one hand and looks out. As he +gazes his face grows sterner, and he lifts his hand above his head +in menace. LAVARCAM looks on with terror, and as he drops the +curtain and looks back on her, she lets her face sink in her hands.] + +CONCOBAR--(scornfully) A Druid makes prophecies and a Druidess +schemes to bring them to pass! Well have you all worked together! +A fading beauty was to return, and the Lights of Valor to shine +again in the Red-Branch! And I, the Ardrie of Ulla and the head +of the Red Branch, to pass by the broken law and the after deceit! +I, whose sole thought was of the building up of a people, to be +set aside! The high gods may judge me hereafter, but tonight shall +see the broken law set straight, and vengeance on the traitors to Ulla! + +LAVARCAM--It was all my doing! They are innocent! I loved Deirdre, +O king! let your anger be on me alone. + +CONCOBAR--Oh, tongue of falsehood! Who can believe you! The fate +of Ulla was in your charge, and you let it go forth at the instant +wish of a man and a girl's desire. The fate of Ulla was too distant, +and you must bring it nigher--the torch to the pile! Breakers of +the law and makers of lies, you shall all perish together! + +[CONCOBAR leaves the room. LAVARCAM remains, her being shaken with +sobs. After a pause NAISI enters with DEIRDRE. AINLE, ARDAN, +ILANN, and BUINNE follow. During the dialogue which ensues, NAISI +is inattentive, and is curiously examining the chess-board.] + +DEIRDRE--We are entering a house of death! Who is it that weeps so? +I, too, would weep, but the children of Usna are too proud to let +tears be seen in the eyes of their women. (She sees LAVARCAM, who +raises her head from the table.) O fostermother, for whom do you +sorrow? Ah! it is for us. You still love me dear fostermother; +but you, who are wise, could you not have warned the Lights of Valor? +Was it kind to keep silence, and only meet us here with tears? + +LAVARCAM--O Deirdre, my child! my darling! I have let love and +longing blind my eyes. I left the mountain home of the gods for +Emain Macha, and to plot for your return. I--I deceived the king. +I told him your loveliness was passed, and the time of the prophecy +gone by. I thought when you came all would be well. I thought +wildly, for love had made a blindness in my heart, and now the king +has discovered the deceit; and, oh! he has gone away in wrath, +and soon his terrible hand will fall! + +DEIRDRE--It was not love made you all blind, but the high gods have +deserted us, and the demons draw us into a trap. They have lured +us from Alba, and they hover here above us in red clouds--cloud +upon cloud--and await the sacrifice. + +LAVARACAM--Oh, it is not yet too late! Where is Fergus? The king +dare not war on Fergus. Fergus is our only hope. + +DEIRDRE--Fergus has bartered his honor for a feast. He remained +with Baruch that he might boast he never refused the wine cup. He +feasts with Baruch, and the Lights of Valor who put their trust in +him--must die. + +BUINNE--Fergus never bartered his honor. I do protest, girl, +against your speech. The name of Fergus alone would protect you +throughout all Eri; how much more here, where he is champion in +Ulla. Come, brother, we are none of us needed here. [BUINNE +leaves the room.] + +DEIRDRE--Father and son alike desert us! O fostermother, is this +the end of all? Is there no way out? Is there no way out? + +ILANN--I will not desert you, Deirdre, while I can still thrust a +spear. But you, fear overmuch without a cause. + +LAVARACAM--Bar up the door and close the windows. I will send a +swift messenger for Fergus. If you hold the dun until Fergus comes +all will yet be well. [LAVARCAM hurries out.] + +DEIRDRE---(going to NAISI)--Naisi, do you not hear? Let the door +be barred! Ainle and Ardan, are you still all blind? Oh! must I +close them with my own hand! + +[DEIRDRE goes to the Window, and lays her hand on the bars NAISI +follows her.] + +NAISI--Deirdre, in your girlhood you have not known of the ways +of the Red Branch. This thing you fear is unheard of in Ulla. The +king may be wrathful; but the word, once passed, is inviolable. If +he whispered treachery to one of the Red Branch he would not be +Ardrie tomorrow. Nay, leave the window unbarred, or they will say +the sons of Usna have returned timid as birds! Come, we are enough +protection for thee. See, here is the chessboard of Concobar, with +which he is wont to divine, playing a lonely game with fate. The +pieces are set. We will finish the game, and so pass the time until +the feast is ready. (He sits down) The golden pieces are yours +and the silver mine. + +AINLE--(looking at the board) You have given Deirdre the weaker side. + +NAISI--Deirdre always plays with more cunning skill. + +DEIRDRE--O fearless one, if he who set the game played with fate, +the victory is already fixed, and no skill may avail. + +NAISI--We will see if Concobar has favourable omens. It is geasa +for him always to play with silver pieces. I will follow his game. +It is your move. Dear one, will you not smile? Surely, against +Concobar you will play well. + +DEIRDRE--It is too late. See, everywhere my king is threatened! + +ARDAN--Nay, your game is not lost. If you move your king back all +will be well. + +MESSENGER--(at the door) I bear a message from the Ardrie to the +sons of Usna. + +NAISI--Speak out thy message, man. Why does thy voice tremble? Who +art thou? I do not know thee. Thou art not one of the Red Branch. +Concobar is not wont to send messages to kings by such as thou. + +MESSENGER--The Red Branch are far from Emain Macha--but it matters +not. The king has commanded me to speak thus to the sons of Usna. +You have broken the law of Ulla when you stole away the daughter of +Felim. You have broken the law of the Red Branch when you sent +lying messages through Lavarcam plotting to return. The king +commands that the daughter of Felim be given up, and-- + +AINLIE--Are we to listen to this? + +ARDAN--My spear will fly of itself if he does not depart. + +NAISI--Nay, brother, he is only a slave. (To the MESSENGER.) Return +to Concobar, and tell him that tomorrow the Red Branch will choose +another chief. There, why dost thou wait? Begone! (To DEIRDRE.) +Oh, wise woman, truly did you see the rottenness in this king! + +DEIRDRE--Why did you not take my counsel, Naisi? For now it is +too late--too late. + +NAISI--There is naught to fear. One of us could hold this dun +against a thousand of Concobar's household slaves. When Fergus +comes tomorrow there will be another king in Emain Macha. + +ILANN--It is true, Deirdre. One of us is enough for Concobar's +household slaves. I will keep watch at the door while you play at +peace with Naisi. + +[ILANN lifts the curtain of the door and goes outside. The Play at +chess begins again. AINLE and ARDAN look on.] + +AINLE--Naisi, you play wildly. See, your queen will be taken. [A +disturbance without and the clash of arms.] + +ILANN--(Without) Keep back! Do you dare? + +NAISI--Ah! the slaves come on, driven by the false Ardrie! When +the game is finished we will sweep them back and slay them in the +Royal House before Concobar's eyes. Play! You forget to move, +Deirdre. [The clash of arms is renewed.] + +ILANN--(without) Oh! I am wounded. Ainle! Ardan! To the door! + +[AINLE and ARDAN rush out. The clash of arms renewed.] + +DEIRDRE--Naisi, I cannot. I cannot. The end of all has come. Oh, +Naisi! [She flings her arms across the table, scattering the pieces +over the board.] + +NAISI--If the end has come we should meet it with calm. It is not +with sighing and tears the Clan Usna should depart. You have not +played this game as it ought to be played. + +DEIRDRE--Your pride is molded and set like a pillar of bronze. O +warrior, I was no mate for you. I am only a woman, who has given +her life into your hands, and you chide me for my love. + +NAISI--(caressing her head with his hands) Poor timid dove, I had +forgotten thy weakness. I did not mean to wound thee, my heart. Oh, +many will shed hotter tears than these for thy sorrow! They will +perish swiftly who made Naisi's queen to weep! [He snatches up a +spear and rushes out. There are cries, and then a silence.] + +LAVARCAM--(entering hurriedly) Bear Deirdre swiftly away through +the night. (She stops and looks around.) Where are the sons of Usna? +Oh! I stepped over many dead bodies at the door. Surely the Lights +of Valor were not so soon overcome! Oh, my darling! come away with +me from this terrible house. + +DEIRDRE--(Slowly) What did you say of the Lights of Valor? That-- +they--were dead? + +[NAISI, AINLE, and ARDAN re-enter. DEIRDRE clings to NAISI.] + +NAISI--My gentle one, do not look so pale nor wound me with those +terror-stricken eyes. Those base slaves are all fled. Truly +Concobar is a mighty king without the Red Branch! + +LAVARCAM--Oh, do not linger here. Bear Deirdre away while there +is time. You can escape through the city in the silence of the night. +The king has called for his Druids; soon the magic of Cathvah will +enfold you, and your strength will be all withered away. + +NAISI--I will not leave Emain Macha until the head of this false +king is apart from his shoulders. A spear can pass as swiftly +through his Druid as through one of his slaves. Oh, Cathvah, the +old mumbler of spells and of false prophecies, who caused Deirdre +to be taken from her mother's breast! Truly, I owe a deep debt to +Cathvah, and I Will repay it. + +LAVARCAM--If you love Deirdre, do not let pride and wrath stay your +flight. You have but an instant to fly. You can return with Fergus +and a host of warriors in the dawn. You do not know the power of +Cathvah. Surely, if you do not depart, Deirdre will fall into the +king's hands, and it were better she had died in her mother's womb. + +DEIRDRE--Naisi, let us leave this house of death. [The sound of +footsteps without] + +LAVARCAM--It is too late! + +[AINLE and ARDAN start to the door, but are stayed at the sound of +CATHVAH'S voice. DEIRDRE clings to NAISI. CATHVAH (chanting without)] + +Let the Faed Fia fall; +Mananaun Mac Lir. +Take back the day +Amid days unremembered. +Over the warring mind +Let thy Faed Fia fall, +Mananaun Mac Lir! + +NAISI--Why dost thou weep, Deirdre, and cling to me so? The sea +is calm. Tomorrow we will rest safely at Emain Macha with the +great Ardrie, who has forgiven all. + +LAVARCAM--The darkness is upon his mind. Oh, poor Deirdre! + +CATHVAH (without)-- + + Let thy waves rise, + Mananaun Mac Lir. + Let the earth fail + Beneath their feet, + Let thy Waves flow over them, + Mananaun: Lord of ocean! + +NAISI--Our galley is sinking--and no land in sight! I did not +think the end would come so soon. O pale love, take courage. Is +death so bitter to thee? We shall go down in each other's arms; +our hearts shall beat out their love together, and the last of life +we shall know will be our kisses on each other's lips. (AINLE and +ARDAN stagger outside. There is a sound of blows and a low cry.) +Ainle and Ardan have sunk in the waters! We are alone. Still +weeping! My bird, my bird, soon we shall fly together to the +bright kingdom in the West, to Hy Brazil, amid the opal seas. + +DEIRDRE--Naisi, Naisi, shake off the magic dream. It is here in +Emain Macha we are. There are no waters. The spell of the Druid +and his terrible chant have made a mist about your eyes. + +NAISI--Her mind is wandering. She is distraught with terror of +the king. There, rest your head on my heart. Hush! hush! The +waters are flowing upward swiftly. Soon, when all is over, you +will laugh at your terror. The great Ardrie will sorrow over +our death. + +DEIRDRE--I cannot speak. Lavarcam, can you not break the enchantment? + +LAVARCAM--My limbs are fixed here by the spell. + +NAISI--There was music a while ago. The swans of Lir, with their +slow, sweet faery singing. There never was a sadder tale than theirs. +They must roam for ages, driven on the sea of Moyle, while we shall +go hand in hand through the country of immortal youth. And there +is Mananaun, the dark blue king, who looks at us with a smile of +welcome. Ildathach is lit up with its shining mountains, and the +golden phantoms are leaping there in the dawn! There is a path +made for us! Come, Deirdre, the god has made for us an island on +the sea. (NAISI goes through the door, and falls back, smitten by +a spear-thrust.) The Druid Cathvah!--The king!--O Deirdre! [He dies. +DEIRDRE bends over the body, taking the hands in hers.] + +LAVARCAM--O gentle heart, thy wounds will be more bitter than his. +Speak but a word. That silent sorrow will kill thee and me. My +darling, it was fate, and I was not to blame. Come, it will comfort +thee to weep beside my breast. Leave the dead for vengeance, for +heavy is the vengeance that shall fall on this ruthless king. + +DEIRDRE--I do not fear Concobar any more. My spirit is sinking +away from the world, I could not stay after Naisi. After the Lights +of Valor had vanished, how could I remain? The earth has grown dim +and old, fostermother. The gods have gone far away, and the lights +from the mountains and the Lions of the Flaming Heart are still, O +fostermother, when they heap the cairn over him, let me be beside +him in the narrow grave. I will still be with the noble one. + +[DEIRDRE lays her head on NAISI's body. CONCOBAR enters, standing +in the doorway. LAVARCAM takes DEIRDRE'S hand and drops it.] + +LAVARCAM--Did you come to torture her with your presence? Was not +the death of Naisi cruelty enough? But now she is past your power +to wound. + +CONCOBAR--The death of Naisi was only the fulfilling of the law. +Ulla could not hold together if its ancient laws were set aside. + +LAVARCAM--Do you think to bind men together when you have broken +their hearts? O fool, who would conquer all Eri! I see the Red +Branch scattered and Eri rent asunder, and thy memory a curse after +many thousand years. The gods have overthrown thy dominion, proud +king, with the last sigh from this dead child; and out of the +pity for her they will build up an eternal kingdom in the spirit +of man. [An uproar without and the clash of arms.] + +VOICES--Fergus! Fergus! Fergus! + +LAVARCAM--The avenger has come! So perishes the Red Branch! [She +hurries out wildly.] + +CONCOBAR--(Slowly, after a pause) I have two divided kingdoms, and +one is in my own heart. Thus do I pay homage to thee, O Queen, who +will rule, being dead. [He bends over the body of DEIRDRE and +kisses her hand.] + +FERGUS--(without) Where is the traitor Ardrie? + +[CONCOBAR starts up, lifting his spear. FERGUS appears at the +doorway, and the scene closes.] + +1901 + + + + + +NOTE TO THOUGHTS FOR A CONVENTION + + +I was asked to put into shape for publication ideas and suggestions +for an Irish settlement which had been discussed among a group whose +members represented ah extremes in Irish opinion. The compromise +arrived at was embodied in documents written by members of the group +privately circulated, criticized and again amended. I make special +acknowledgments to Colonel Maurice Moore, Mr. James G. Douglas, Mr. +Edward E. Lysaght, Mr. Joseph Johnston, F.T.C.D., Mr. Alec Wilson +and Mr. Diarmuid Coffey. For the tone, method of presentation, +and general arguments used, I alone am responsible. And if any are +offended at what I have said, I am to be blamed, not my fellow-workers. + +The author desires to make acknowledgment to The Times for permission +to include an article on "The Spiritual Conflict." + +--------------------------------------------- + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Imaginations and Reveries +by (A.E.) George William Russell + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IMAGINATIONS AND REVERIES *** + +This file should be named imgrv10.txt or imgrv10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, imgrv11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, imgrv10a.txt + +Produced by Jake Jaqua + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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