CHAPTER XXXII.
MARGRAVE threw himself on a seat just under the great anaconda; I closed
and locked the door. When I had done so, my eye fell on the young man's
face, and I was surprised to see that it had lost its colour; that it
showed great anxiety, great distress; that his hands were visibly
trembling.
"What is this?" he said in feeble tones, and raising himself half from his
seat as if with great effort. "Help me up! come away! Something in this
room is hostile to me, hostile, overpowering! What can it be?"
"Truth and my presence," answered a stern, low voice; and Sir Philip
Derval, whose slight form the huge bulk of the dead elephant had before
obscured from my view, came suddenly out from the shadow into the full
rays of the lamps which lit up, as if for Man's revel, that mocking
catacomb for the playmates of Nature which he enslaves for his service or
slays for his sport. As Sir Philip spoke and advanced, Margrave sank back
into his seat, shrinking, collapsing, nerveless; terror the most abject
expressed in his staring eyes and parted lips. On the other hand, the
simple dignity of Sir Philip Derval's bearing, and the mild power of his
countenance, were alike inconceivably heightened. A change had come over
the whole man, the more impressive because wholly undefinable.
Halting opposite Margrave he uttered some words in a language unknown to
me, and stretched one hand over the young man's head. Margrave at once
became stiff and rigid, as if turned to stone. Sir Philip said to me,--
"Place one of those lamps on the floor,--there, by his feet."
I took down one of the coloured lamps from the mimic tree round which the
huge anaconda coiled its spires, and placed it as I was told.
"Take the seat opposite to him, and watch."
I obeyed.
Meanwhile, Sir Philip had drawn from his breast-pocket a small steel
casket, and I observed, as he opened it, that the interior was subdivided
into several compartments, each with its separate lid; from one of these
he took and sprinkled over the flame of the lamp a few grains of a powder,
colourless and sparkling as diamond dust. In a second or so, a delicate
perfume, wholly unfamiliar to my sense, rose from the lamp.
"You would test the condition of trance; test it, and in the spirit."
And, as he spoke, his hand rested lightly on my head. Hitherto, amidst a
surprise not unmixed with awe, I had preserved a certain defiance, a
certain distrust. I had been, as it were, on my guard.
But as those words were spoken, as that hand rested on my head, as that
perfume arose from the lamp, all power of will deserted me. My first
sensation was that of passive subjugation; but soon I was aware of a
strange intoxicating effect from the odour of the lamp, round which there
now played a dazzling vapour. The room swam before me. Like a man
oppressed by a nightmare, I tried to move, to cry out, feeling that to do
so would suffice to burst the thrall that bound me: in vain.
A time that seemed to me inexorably long, but which, as I found
afterwards, could only have occupied a few seconds, elapsed in this
preliminary state, which, however powerless, was not without a vague
luxurious sense of delight. And then suddenly came pain,--pain, that in
rapid gradations passed into a rending agony. Every bone, sinew, nerve,
fibre of the body, seemed as if wrenched open, and as if some hitherto
unconjectured Presence in the vital organization were forcing itself to
light with all the pangs of travail. The veins seemed swollen to
bursting, the heart labouring to maintain its action by fierce spasms. I
feel in this description how language fails me. Enough that the anguish I
then endured surpassed all that I have ever experienced of physical pain.
This dreadful interval subsided as suddenly as it had commenced. I felt
as if a something undefinable by any name had rushed from me, and in that
rush that a struggle was over. I was sensible of the passive bliss which
attends the release from torture, and then there grew on me a wonderful
calm, and, in that calm, a consciousness of some lofty intelligence
immeasurably beyond that which human memory gathers from earthly
knowledge. I saw before me the still rigid form of Margrave, and my sight
seemed, with ease, to penetrate through its covering of flesh, and to
survey the mechanism of the whole interior being.
"View that tenement of clay which now seems so fair, as it was when I last
beheld it, three years ago, in the house of Haroun of Aleppo!"
I looked, and gradually, and as shade after shade falls on the mountain
side, while the clouds gather, and the sun vanishes at last, so the form
and face on which I looked changed from exuberant youth into infirm old
age,--the discoloured wrinkled skin, the bleared dim eye, the flaccid
muscles, the brittle sapless bones. Nor was the change that of age alone;
the expression of the countenance had passed into gloomy discontent, and
in every furrow a passion or a vice had sown the seeds of grief.
And the brain now opened on my sight, with all its labyrinth of cells. I
seemed to have the clew to every winding in the maze.
I saw therein a moral world, charred and ruined, as, in some fable I have
read, the world of the moon is described to be; yet withal it was a brain
of magnificent formation. The powers abused to evil had been originally
of rare order,--imagination, and scope, the energies that dare, the
faculties that discover. But the moral part of the brain had failed to
dominate the mental,--defective veneration of what is good or great;
cynical disdain of what is right and just; in fine, a great intellect
first misguided, then perverted, and now falling with the decay of the
body into ghastly but imposing ruins,--such was the world of that brain
as it had been three years ago. And still continuing to gaze thereon, I
observed three separate emanations of light,--the one of a pale red hue,
the second of a pale azure, the third a silvery spark.
The red light, which grew paler and paler as I looked, undulated from the
brain along the arteries, the veins, the nerves. And I murmured to
myself, "Is this the principle of animal life?"
The azure light equally permeated the frame, crossing and uniting with the
red, but in a separate and distinct ray, exactly as, in the outer world, a
ray of light crosses or unites with a ray of heat, though in itself a
separate individual agency. And again I murmured to myself, "Is this the
principle of intellectual being, directing or influencing that of animal
life; with it, yet not of it?"
But the silvery spark! What was that? Its centre seemed the brain; but I
could fix it to no single organ. Nay, wherever I looked through the
system, it reflected itself as a star reflects itself upon water. And I
observed that while the red light was growing feebler and feebler, and the
azure light was confused, irregular,--now obstructed, now hurrying, now
almost lost,--the silvery spark was unaltered, un disturbed. So
independent was it of all which agitated and vexed the frame, that I
became strangely aware that if the heart stopped in its action, and the
red light died out; if the brain were paralyzed, that energetic mind
smitten into idiotcy, and the azure light wandering objectless as a meteor
wanders over the morass,--still that silver spark would shine the same,
indestructible by aught that shattered its tabernacle. And I murmured to
myself, "Can that starry spark speak the presence of the soul? Does the
silver light shine within creatures to which no life immortal has been
promised by Divine Revelation?"
Involuntarily I turned my sight towards the dead forms in the motley
collection, and lo, in my trance or my vision, life returned to them
all!--to the elephant and the serpent; to the tiger, the vulture, the
beetle, the moth; to the fish and the polypus, and to yon mockery of man
in the giant ape.
I seemed to see each as it lived in its native realm of earth, or of air,
or of water; and the red light played more or less warm through the
structure of each, and the azure light, though duller of hue, seemed to
shoot through the red, and communicate to the creatures an intelligence
far inferior indeed to that of man, but sufficing to conduct the current
of their will, and influence the cunning of their instincts. But in none,
from the elephant to the moth, from the bird in which brain was the
largest to the hybrid in which life seemed to live as in plants,--in none
was visible the starry silver spark. I turned my eyes from the creatures
around, back again to the form cowering under the huge anaconda, and in
terror at the animation which the carcasses took in the awful illusions of
that marvellous trance; for the tiger moved as if scenting blood, and to
the eyes of the serpent the dread fascination seemed slowly returning.
Again I gazed on the starry spark in the form of the man. And I murmured
to myself, "But if this be the soul, why is it so undisturbed and
undarkened by the sins which have left such trace and such ravage in the
world of the brain?" And gazing yet more intently on the spark, I became
vaguely aware that it was not the soul, but the halo around the soul, as
the star we see in heaven is not the star itself, but its circle of rays;
and if the light itself was undisturbed and undarkened, it was because no
sins done in the body could annihilate its essence, nor affect the
eternity of its duration. The light was clear within the ruins of its
lodgment, because it might pass away, but could not be extinguished.
But the soul itself in the heart of the light reflected back on my own
soul within me its ineffable trouble, humiliation, and sorrow; for those
ghastly wrecks of power placed at its sovereign command it was
responsible, and, appalled by its own sublime fate of duration, was about
to carry into eternity the account of its mission in time. Yet it seemed
that while the soul was still there, though so forlorn and so guilty, even
the wrecks around it were majestic. And the soul, whatever sentence it
might merit, was not among the hopelessly lost; for in its remorse and its
shame, it might still have retained what could serve for redemption. And
I saw that the mind was storming the soul, in some terrible rebellious
war,--all of thought, of passion, of desire, through which the azure light
poured its restless flow, were surging up round the starry spark, as in
siege. And I could not comprehend the war, nor guess what it was that the
mind demanded the soul to yield. Only the distinction between the two was
made intelligible by their antagonism. And I saw that the soul, sorely
tempted, looked afar for escape from the subjects it had ever so ill
controlled, and who sought to reduce to their vassal the power which had
lost authority as their king. I could feel its terror in the sympathy of
my own terror, the keenness of my own supplicating pity. I knew that it
was imploring release from the perils it confessed its want of strength
to encounter. And suddenly the starry spark rose from the ruins and the
tumult around it,--rose into space and vanished; and where my soul had
recognized the presence of soul, there was a void. But the red light
burned still, becoming more and more vivid; and as it thus repaired and
recruited its lustre, the whole animal form, which had been so decrepit,
grew restored from decay, grew into vigour and youth: and I saw Alargrave
as I had seen him in the waking world, the radiant image of animal life in
the beauty of its fairest bloom.
And over this rich vitality and this symmetric mechanism now reigned only,
with the animal life, the mind. The starry light fled and the soul
vanished, still was left visible the mind,--mind, by which sensations
convey and cumulate ideas, and muscles obey volition; mind, as in those
animals that have more than the elementary, instincts; mind, as it might
be in men, were men not immortal. As my eyes, in the Vision, followed the
azure light, undulating as before, through the cells of the brain, and
crossing the red amidst the labyrinth of the nerves, I perceived that the
essence of that azure light had undergone a change: it had lost that
faculty of continuous and concentred power by which man improves on the
works of the past, and weaves schemes to be developed in the future of
remote generations; it had lost all sympathy in the past, because it had
lost all conception of a future beyond the grave; it had lost conscience,
it had lost remorse; the being it informed was no longer accountable
through eternity for the employment of time. The azure light was even
more vivid in certain organs useful to the conservation of existence, as
in those organs I had observed it more vivid among some of the inferior
animals than it is in man,--secretiveness, destructiveness, and the ready
perception of things immediate to the wants of the day; and the azure
light was brilliant in cerebral cells, where before it had been dark, such
as those which harbour mirthfulness and hope, for there the light was
recruited by the exuberant health of the joyous animal-being. But it was
lead-like, or dim, in the great social organs, through which man
subordinates his own interest to that of his species, and utterly lost in
those through which man is reminded of his duties to the throne of his
Maker.
In that marvellous penetration with which the Vision endowed me, I
perceived that in this mind, though in energy far superior to many; though
retaining, from memories of the former existence, the relics of a culture
wide and in some things profound; though sharpened and quickened into
formidable, if desultory, force whenever it schemed or aimed at the animal
self-conservation which now made its master--impulse or instinct; and
though among the reminiscences of its state before its change were arts
which I could not comprehend, but which I felt were dark and terrible,
lending to a will never checked by remorse arms that no healthful
philosophy has placed in the arsenal of disciplined genius; though the
mind in itself had an ally in a body as perfect in strength and elasticity
as man can take from the favour of nature,--still, I say, I felt that the
mind wanted the something without which men never could found cities,
frame laws, bind together, beautify, exalt the elements of this world, by
creeds that habitually subject them to a reference to another. The ant
and the bee and the beaver congregate and construct; but they do not
improve. Man improves because the future impels onward that which is not
found in the ant, the bee, and the beaver,--that which was gone from the
being before me.
I shrank appalled into myself, covered my face with my hands, and groaned
aloud: "Have I ever then doubted that soul is distinct from mind?"
A hand here again touched my forehead, the light in the lamp was
extinguished, I became insensible; and when I recovered I found myself
back in the room in which I had first conversed with Sir Philip Derval,
and seated, as before, on the sofa, by his side.
