CHAPTER 7.XIV.
Dann zur Blumenflor der Sterne
Aufgeschauet liebewarm,
Fass' ihn freundlich Arm in Arm
Trag' ihn in die blaue Ferne.
Uhland, "An den Tod."
Then towards the Garden of the Star
Lift up thine aspect warm with love,
And, friendlike link'd through space afar,
Mount with him, arm in arm, above.
Uhland, "Poem to Death."
He stood upon the lofty balcony that overlooked the quiet city.
Though afar, the fiercest passions of men were at work on the web
of strife and doom, all that gave itself to his view was calm and
still in the rays of the summer moon, for his soul was wrapped
from man and man's narrow sphere, and only the serener glories of
creation were present to the vision of the seer. There he stood,
alone and thoughtful, to take the last farewell of the wondrous
life that he had known.
Coursing through the fields of space, he beheld the gossamer
shapes, whose choral joys his spirit had so often shared. There,
group upon group, they circled in the starry silence multiform in
the unimaginable beauty of a being fed by ambrosial dews and
serenest light. In his trance, all the universe stretched
visible beyond; in the green valleys afar, he saw the dances of
the fairies; in the bowels of the mountains, he beheld the race
that breathe the lurid air of the volcanoes, and hide from the
light of heaven; on every leaf in the numberless forests, in
every drop of the unmeasured seas, he surveyed its separate and
swarming world; far up, in the farthest blue, he saw orb upon orb
ripening into shape, and planets starting from the central fire,
to run their day of ten thousand years. For everywhere in
creation is the breath of the Creator, and in every spot where
the breath breathes is life! And alone, in the distance, the
lonely man beheld his Magian brother. There, at work with his
numbers and his Cabala, amidst the wrecks of Rome, passionless
and calm, sat in his cell the mystic Mejnour,--living on, living
ever while the world lasts, indifferent whether his knowledge
produces weal or woe; a mechanical agent of a more tender and a
wiser will, that guides every spring to its inscrutable designs.
Living on,--living ever,--as science that cares alone for
knowledge, and halts not to consider how knowledge advances
happiness; how Human Improvement, rushing through civilisation,
crushes in its march all who cannot grapple to its wheels ("You
colonise the lands of the savage with the Anglo-Saxon,--you
civilise that portion of THE EARTH; but is the SAVAGE civilised?
He is exterminated! You accumulate machinery,--you increase the
total of wealth; but what becomes of the labour you displace?
One generation is sacrificed to the next. You diffuse
knowledge,--and the world seems to grow brighter; but Discontent
at Poverty replaces Ignorance, happy with its crust. Every
improvement, every advancement in civilisation, injures some, to
benefit others, and either cherishes the want of to-day, or
prepares the revolution of to-morrow."--Stephen Montague.); ever,
with its Cabala and its number, lives on to change, in its
bloodless movements, the face of the habitable world!
And, "Oh, farewell to life!" murmured the glorious dreamer.
"Sweet, O life! hast thou been to me. How fathomless thy joys,--
how rapturously has my soul bounded forth upon the upward paths!
To him who forever renews his youth in the clear fount of Nature,
how exquisite is the mere happiness TO BE! Farewell, ye lamps of
heaven, and ye million tribes, the Populace of Air. Not a mote
in the beam, not an herb on the mountain, not a pebble on the
shore, not a seed far-blown into the wilderness, but contributed
to the lore that sought in all the true principle of life, the
Beautiful, the Joyous, the Immortal. To others, a land, a city,
a hearth, has been a home; MY home has been wherever the
intellect could pierce, or the spirit could breathe the air."
He paused, and through the immeasurable space his eyes and his
heart, penetrating the dismal dungeon, rested on his child. He
saw it slumbering in the arms of the pale mother, and HIS soul
spoke to the sleeping soul. "Forgive me, if my desire was sin; I
dreamed to have reared and nurtured thee to the divinest
destinies my visions could foresee. Betimes, as the mortal part
was strengthened against disease, to have purified the spiritual
from every sin; to have led thee, heaven upon heaven, through the
holy ecstasies which make up the existence of the orders that
dwell on high; to have formed, from thy sublime affections, the
pure and ever-living communication between thy mother and myself.
The dream was but a dream--it is no more! In sight myself of the
grave, I feel, at last, that through the portals of the grave
lies the true initiation into the holy and the wise. Beyond
those portals I await ye both, beloved pilgrims!"
From his numbers and his Cabala, in his cell, amidst the wrecks
of Rome, Mejnour, startled, looked up, and through the spirit,
felt that the spirit of his distant friend addressed him.
"Fare thee well forever upon this earth! Thy last companion
forsakes thy side. Thine age survives the youth of all; and the
Final Day shall find thee still the contemplator of our tombs. I
go with my free will into the land of darkness; but new suns and
systems blaze around us from the grave. I go where the souls of
those for whom I resign the clay shall be my co-mates through
eternal youth. At last I recognise the true ordeal and the real
victory. Mejnour, cast down thy elixir; lay by thy load of
years! Wherever the soul can wander, the Eternal Soul of all
things protects it still!"
