,,transcriber',s ,,notes3 --,obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected4 --,bold text has been rendered as bold text4 ,the ,treasure of the ,humble ,by ,maurice ,maeterlinck ,translated by ,alfred ,sutro ,with ,introduction by ,a4 ,b4 ,walkley ,london3 ,george ,allen1 ,ruskin ,house #aef ,charing ,cross ,road mcmv ,first ,edition1 ,march #ahig4 ,reprinted ,october #ahig2 ,september #aija2 ,january #aijc2 ,may #aijd2 ,november #aije4 ,printed by ,,ballantyne1 ,,hanson ,,co4 ,at the ,ballantyne ,press ,,to ,,madame ,,georgette ,,leblanc ,the ,treasure of the ,humble ,illustration3 ,,logo ,,contents ,,introduction ,page ix ,,silence #a ,,the ,,awakening ,,of ,,the ,,soul #bc ,,the ,,pre-,,destined #dc ,,mystic ,,morality #ei ,,on ,,women #ge ,,the ,,tragical ,,in ,,daily ,,life #ie ,,the ,,star #aba ,,the ,,invisible ,,goodness #adg ,,the ,,deeper ,,life #afi ,,the ,,inner ,,beauty #aig ,,introduction ,,with ,m4 ,maeterlinck as a dramatist the world is pretty well acquainted4 ,this little volume presents him in the new character of a philosopher and an sthetician4 ,and it is in some sort an #8apology' for his theatre1 the one being to the other as theory to practice4 ,reversing the course prescribed by ,mr4 ,squeers for his pupils1 ,m4 ,maeterlinck1 having cleaned w-i-n-d-e-r1 winder1 now goes and spells it4 ,he began by visualising and synthetising his ideas of life2 here you shall find him trying to analyse these ideas and consumed with anxiety to tell us the truth that is in him4 ,it is not a truth for all markets2 he is at no pains to conceal that4 ,he appeals1 as every mystic must1 to the elect2 ,m4 ,anatole ,france would say1 to the mes bien nes4 ,if we are not sealed of the tribe of ,plotinus1 he warns us to go elsewhere4 #8,if1 plunging thine eyes into thyself--it is this same ,plotinus that he is quoting--#8thou dost not feel the charm of beauty1 it is in vain that1 thy disposition being such1 thou shouldst seek the charm of beauty2 for thou wouldst seek it only with that which is ugly and impure4 ,therefore it is that the discourse we hold here is not addressed to all men4' ,if we are to follow him in his expedition to a philosophic ,ultima ,thule1 we must have the mind for that adventure4 #8,we are here1' as he tells us elsewhere of the #8stiff' but1 it seems1 #8admirable' ,ruysbroeck1 #8all of a sudden on the borderland of human thought and far across the ,arctic circle of the spirit4 ,there is no ordinary cold1 no ordinary dark there1 and yet you shall find there naught but flames and light4 ,but to those who arrive without having trained their minds to these new perceptions1 the light and the flames are as dark and as cold as though they were painted4' ,this means that the intelligence1 the reason1 will not suffice of themselves2 we must have faith4 ,there are passages in the book which may provoke a sniff from ,mr4 ,worldly ,wiseman2 but we must beware of the ,voltairean spirit1 or this will be a closed book to us4 #8,we live by admiration1 hope1 and love1' said ,wordsworth4 ,and we understand by them1 ,m4 ,maeterlinck would add4 ,i fear we are not all of us found worthy of the mystical frame of mind4 ,but it is a psychological fact1 like another2 and if we can only examine it from the outside1 we can at least bring patience and placidity to the task4 ,the point is3 has ,m4 ,maeterlinck anything to say8 ,it will be found1 ,i think1 that he has4 ,all men1 the world has long been assured1 are born ,aristotelians or ,platonists4 ,there cannot be a doubt about ,m4 ,maeterlinck's philosophic birthright4 ,he may say1 as ,paul ,verlaine sang3 ,moi1 j'allais rvant du divin ,platon1 ,sous l'il clignotant des bleus becs de gaz4 ,more strictly1 he is a ,neo-,platonist4 ,his remark about the ,admirable ,ruysbroeck's idea is equally true of his own4 #8,i fancy that all those who have not lived in the intimacy of ,plato and of the ,neo-,platonists of ,alexandria1 will not go far with this reading4' ,he quotes ,plotinus1 #8the great ,plotinus1 who1 of all the intellects known to me1 draws the nearest to the divine4' ,he cites ,porphyry and the ,gnostics and ,swedenborg4 ,these are not exactly popular authors of the moment4 ,but ,m4 ,maeterlinck1 it is plain1 has devoured them2 his is not what ,pope called #8index-learning4' ,plotinus 7#bje-bgj ,a4,d47 stood between two worlds1 the old and the new2 and he made the best of both4 ,he enlarged the boundaries of art by discerning in the idea of beauty an inward and spiritual grace not to be found in the #8,platonic idea4' ,that1 too1 is what ,m4 ,maeterlinck is striving for3 a larger idea of beauty1 and a better apprehension of its inward and spiritual grace4 ,his cardinal doctrine will1 ,i conjecture1 prove to be something like this4 ,what should be of most account for us all is not external fact1 but the supra-sensuous world4 #8,what we know is not interesting'2 the really interesting things are those which we can only divine--the veiled life of the soul1 the crepuscular region of subconsciousness1 our #8borderland' feelings1 all that lies in the strange #8neutral zone' between the frontiers of consciousness and unconsciousness4 ,the mystery of life is what makes life worth living4 #8',twas a little being of mystery1 like every one else1' says the old ,king ,arkel of the dead ,mlisande4 ,we are such stuff as dreams are made of1 might be the #8refrain' of all ,m4 ,maeterlinck's plays1 and of most of these essays4 ,he is penetrated by the feeling of the mystery in all human creatures1 whose every act is regulated by far-off influences and obscurely rooted in things unexplained4 ,mystery is within us and around us4 ,of reality we can only get now and then the merest glimpse4 ,our senses are too gross4 ,between the invisible world and our own there is doubtless an intimate concordance2 but it escapes us4 ,we grope among shadows towards the unknown4 ,even the new conquests of what we vainly suppose to be #8exact' thought only deepen the mystery of life4 ,there is1 for example1 the ,schopenhauerian theory of love4 ,we had fancied we could at least choose our loves in freedom3 but #8we are told that a thousand centuries divide us from ourselves when we choose the woman we love1 and that the first kiss of the betrothed is but the seal which thousands of hands1 craving for birth1 have impressed upon the lips of the mother they desire4' ,and so with the #8heredity' of the men of science4 #8,we know that the dead do not die4 ,we know that it is not in our churches they are to be found1 but in the houses1 the habits of us all4' ,what was there in the old notion of ,destiny so mysterious as this double thraldom of ours--thraldom to the dead and to the unborn8 ,conclusion3 mysticism is your only wear4 ,in the mystics alone is certitude4 #8,if it be true1 as has been said1 that every man is a ,shakespeare in his dreams1 we have to ask ourselves whether every man1 in his waking life1 is not an inarticulate mystic1 a thousandfold more transcendental than those circumscribed by speech4' ,in silence is our only chance of knowing one another4 ,and #8mystic truths have over ordinary truths a strange privilege2 they can neither age nor die4' ,from all this you see ,m4 ,maeterlinck's train of thought4 ,he would fix our minds upon the obscure1 pre-conscious1 what ,m4 ,faguet calls the incunabulary life of the soul4 ,he finds no epithets too fine for this3 the higher life1 the transcendental life1 the divine life1 the absolute life4 ,whatever we may think of these ideas in themselves1 there is no doubt that the man who expresses them sounds a new and individual note4 ,they show a reaction against the whole effort of modern literature1 which has been nothing if not positive1 quasi-scientific1 ever on the prowl for #8documents4' ,and if for no other reason than that1 this book1 ,i submit1 would have peculiar significance and value4 ,but there is at least one other reason4 ,m4 ,maeterlinck puts forward a plea1 and a plea not lightly to be dismissed1 for a new sthetic of the drama4 ,the mystery which he finds everywhere around us and within us he would bring into the theatre4 ,if there is one position which the whole world supposed itself to have definitively taken up1 it is the position that the theatre lives by action and to offer us an exhibition of the will4 ,therein1 for instance1 ,m4 ,ferdinand ,brunetire finds the differentia of drama2 it is the struggle of a will1 conscious of itself1 against obstacles4 ,traversing this position ,m4 ,maeterlinck boldly asks whether a #8static' theatre is impossible1 a theatre of mood not of movement1 a theatre where nothing material happens and where everything immaterial is felt4 ,even as it is1 the real beauty and purport of a tragedy is not seldom to be found in that part of its dialogue which is superficially #8useless4' #8,certain it is that in the ordinary drama the indispensable dialogue by no means corresponds to reality4444 ,one may even affirm that the poem draws the nearer to beauty and loftier truth in the measure that it eliminates words that merely explain the action and replaces them by others that reveal not the so-called 8soul-state10 but ,i know not what intangible and unceasing striving of the soul towards its beauty and its truth4' ,the frivolous will be reminded here1 perhaps1 of the old stage direction for the miser3 #8,leans against a wall and grows generous4' ,others who remember their ,xenophon will bethink them of a certain discussion which ,socrates had with ,parrhasius on the question1 #8,can the unseen be imitated8' 7,soc4 ,memorabilia1 iii4 #aj74 ,it may be that ,m4 ,maeterlinck's #8static' theatre is an unrealisable dream2 but it is a seductive one1 by contrast with the reality4 ,do not all of us who are condemned to spend much of our time in the playhouse occasionally share ,m4 ,maeterlinck's feeling of repugnance8 #8,when ,i go to the theatre1 ,i feel as though ,i were spending a few hours in the midst of my ancestors1 who looked upon life as something that was primitive1 arid1 and brutal2 but this conception of theirs scarcely even lingers in my memory1 and surely it is not one that ,i can any longer share4444 ,i had hoped to be shown some act of life traced back to its source and to its mystery by connecting links that my daily occupations afford me neither power nor occasion to study4 ,i had gone thither hoping that the beauty1 the grandeur1 and the earnestness of my humble day-by-day existence would for one instant be revealed to me 444 whereas1 almost invariably1 all that ,i beheld was but a man who would tell me at wearisome length why he was jealous1 why he poisoned1 or why he killed4' ,and so he would have the drama make an effort to show us #8how truly wonderful is the mere fact of living'2 he would have it tackle #8presentiments1 the strange impression produced by a chance meeting or a look1 a decision that the unknown side of human reason had governed1 an intervention or a force inexplicable and yet understood1 the secret laws of sympathy and antipathy1 elective and instinctive affinities1 the overwhelming influence of things unsaid4' ,how is it all to come about8 ,when we ask this question we find ourselves in the position of the lady who had been discussing the subject of a future state with ,dr4 ,johnson4 #8,she seemed desirous of knowing more1' says ,boswell1 #8but he left the question in obscurity4' ,it is there that ,m4 ,maeterlinck1 like a true mystic1 is content to leave most of his questions4 #8,the time has not yet come1' he says with an engaging candour1 #8when we can speak lucidly of these things4' ,one thinks of ,sir ,thomas ,browne's quaint fancy4 #8,a dialogue between two infants in the womb concerning the state of this world might handsomely illustrate our ignorance of the next1 whereof methinks we yet discourse in ,plato's den1 and are but embryon philosophers4' ,maybe ,m4 ,maeterlinck is but an embryon philosopher1 one who discourses in ,plato's den4 ,but ,i think we must all recognise the native distinction of his mind1 the fastidious delicacy of his taste1 his abiding and insatiable love of beauty4 ,what he says1 exquisitely enough but perhaps too liberally1 of every man--#8to every man there come noble thoughts that pass across his heart like great white birds'--is certainly true of himself4 ,wherefore one may venture to invite people to his book as ,heraclitus welcomed guests to his kitchen3 #8,enter boldly1 for here also there are gods4' ,a4 ,b4 ,w4 ,,silence ,,silence #8,,silence and ,secrecy6' cries ,carlyle4 #8,altars might still be raised to them 7were this an altar-building time7 for universal worship4 ,silence is the element in which great things fashion themselves together1 that at length they may emerge1 full-formed and majestic1 into the daylight of ,life1 which they are henceforth to rule4 ,not ,william the ,silent only1 but all the considerable men ,i have known1 and the most undiplomatic and unstrategic of these1 forbore to babble of what they were creating and projecting4 ,nay1 in thy own mean perplexities1 do thou thyself but hold thy tongue for one day2 on the morrow how much clearer are thy purposes and duties2 what wreck and rubbish have these mute workmen within thee swept away1 when intrusive noises were shut out6 ,speech is too often not1 as the ,frenchman defined it1 the art of concealing ,thought1 but of quite stifling and suspending ,thought1 so that there is none to conceal4 ,speech1 too1 is great1 but not the greatest4 ,as the ,swiss inscription says3 ,sprechen ist ,silbern1 ,schweigen ist goldern 7,speech is silver1 ,silence is golden72 or1 as ,i might rather express it1 ,speech is of ,time1 ,silence is of ,eternity4 #8,bees will not work except in darkness2 ,thought will not work except in ,silence2 neither will ,virtue work except in secrecy4' 99 99 99 99 99 ,,it is idle to think that1 by means of words1 any real communication can ever pass from one man to another4 ,the lips or the tongue may represent the soul1 even as a cipher or a number may represent a picture of ,memling2 but from the moment that we have something to say to each other1 we are compelled to hold our peace3 and if at such times we do not listen to the urgent commands of silence1 invisible though they be1 we shall have suffered an eternal loss that all the treasures of human wisdom cannot make good2 for we shall have let slip the opportunity of listening to another soul1 and of giving existence1 be it only for an instant1 to our own2 and many lives there are in which such opportunities do not present themselves twice4444 ,it is only when life is sluggish within us that we speak3 only at moments when reality lies far away1 and we do not wish to be conscious of our brethren4 ,and no sooner do we speak than something warns us that the divine gates are closing4 ,thus it comes about that we hug silence to us1 and are very misers of it2 and even the most reckless will not squander it on the first comer4 ,there is an instinct of the superhuman truths within us which warns us that it is dangerous to be silent with one whom we do not wish to know1 or do not love3 for words may pass between men1 but let silence have had its instant of activity1 and it will never efface itself2 and indeed the true life1 the only life that leaves a trace behind1 is made up of silence alone4 ,bethink it well1 in that silence to which you must again have recourse1 so that it may explain itself1 by itself2 and if it be granted to you to descend for one moment into your soul1 into the depths where the angels dwell1 it is not the words spoken by the creature you loved so dearly that you will recall1 or the gestures that he made1 but it is1 above all1 the silences that you have lived together that will come back to you3 for it is the quality of those silences that alone revealed the quality of your love and your souls4 ,so far ,i have considered active silence only1 for there is a passive silence1 which is the shadow of sleep1 of death or non-existence4 ,it is the silence of lethargy1 and is even less to be dreaded than speech1 so long as it slumbers2 but beware lest a sudden incident awake it1 for then would its brother1 the great active silence1 at once rear himself upon his throne4 ,be on your guard4 ,two souls would draw near each other3 the barriers would fall asunder1 the gates fly open1 and the life of every day be replaced by a life of deepest earnest1 wherein all are defenceless2 a life in which laughter dares not show itself1 in which there is no obeying1 in which nothing can evermore be forgotten4444 ,and it is because we all of us know of this sombre power and its perilous manifestations1 that we stand in so deep a dread of silence4 ,we can bear1 when need must be1 the silence of ourselves1 that of isolation3 but the silence of many--silence multiplied--and above all the silence of a crowd--these are supernatural burdens1 whose inexplicable weight brings dread to the mightiest soul4 ,we spend a goodly portion of our lives in seeking places where silence is not4 ,no sooner have two or three men met than their one thought is to drive away the invisible enemy2 and of how many ordinary friendships may it not be said that their only foundation is the common hatred of silence6 ,and if1 all efforts notwithstanding1 it contrives to steal among a number of men1 disquiet will fall upon them1 and their restless eyes will wander in the mysterious direction of things unseen3 and each man will hurriedly go his way1 flying before the intruder3 and henceforth they will avoid each other1 dreading lest a similar disaster should again befall them1 and suspicious as to whether there be not one among them who would treacherously throw open the gate to the enemy4444 ,in the lives of most of us1 it will not happen more than twice or thrice that silence is really understood and freely admitted4 ,it is only on the most solemn occasions that the inscrutable guest is welcomed2 but1 when such come about1 there are few who do not make the welcome worthy1 for even in the lives of the most wretched there are moments when they know how to act1 even as though they knew already that which is known to the gods4 ,remember the day on which1 without fear in your heart1 you met your first silence4 ,the dread hour had sounded2 silence went before your soul4 ,you saw it rising from the unspeakable abysses of life1 from the depths of the inner sea of horror or beauty1 and you did not fly4444 ,it was at a home-coming1 on the threshold of a departure1 in the midst of a great joy1 at the pillow of a death-bed1 on the approach of a dire misfortune4 ,bethink you of those moments when all the secret jewels shone forth on you1 and the slumbering truths sprung to life1 and tell me whether silence1 then1 was not good and necessary1 whether the caresses of the enemy you had so persistently shunned were not truly divine8 ,the kisses of the silence of misfortune--and it is above all at times of misfortune that silence caresses us--can never be forgotten2 and therefore it is that those to whom they have come more often than to others are worthier than those others4 ,they alone know1 perhaps1 how voiceless and unfathomable are the waters on which the fragile shell of daily life reposes3 they have approached nearer to ,god1 and the steps they have taken towards the light are steps that can never be lost1 for the soul may not rise1 perhaps1 but it can never sink4444 #8,silence1 the great ,empire of ,silence1' says ,carlyle again--he who understood so well the empire of the life which holds us--#8higher than the stars1 deeper than the ,kingdom of ,death6444 ,silence1 and the great silent men6444 ,scattered here and there1 each in his department2 silently thinking1 silently working2 whom no morning newspaper makes mention of6 ,they are the salt of the earth4 ,a country that has none or few of these is in a bad way4 ,like a forest which had no roots2 which had all turned to leaves and boughs2 which must soon wither and be no forest4' ,but the real silence1 which is greater still and more difficult of approach than the material silence of which ,carlyle speaks--the real silence is not one of those gods that can desert mankind4 ,it surrounds us on every side2 it is the source of the undercurrents of our life2 and let one of us but knock1 with trembling fingers1 at the door of the abyss1 it is always by the same attentive silence that this door will be opened4 ,it is a thing that knows no limit1 and before it all men are equal2 and the silence of king or slave1 in presence of death1 or grief1 or love1 reveals the same features1 hides beneath its impenetrable mantle the self-same treasure4 ,for this is the essential silence of our soul1 our most inviolable sanctuary1 and its secret can never be lost2 and1 were the first born of men to meet the last inhabitant of the earth1 a kindred impulse would sway them1 and they would be voiceless in their caresses1 in their terror and their tears2 a kindred impulse would sway them1 and all that could be said without falsehood would call for no spoken word3 and1 the centuries notwithstanding1 there would come to them1 at the same moment1 as though one cradle had held them both1 comprehension of that which the tongue shall not learn to tell before the world ceases4444 ,no sooner are the lips still than the soul awakes1 and sets forth on its labours2 for silence is an element that is full of surprise1 danger and happiness1 and in these the soul possesses itself in freedom4 ,if it be indeed your desire to give yourself over to another1 be silent2 and if you fear being silent with him--unless this fear be the proud uncertainty1 or hunger1 of the love that yearns for prodigies--fly from him1 for your soul knows well how far it may go4 ,there are men in whose presence the greatest of heroes would not dare to be silent2 and even the soul that has nothing to conceal trembles lest another should discover its secret4 ,some there are that have no silence1 and that kill the silence around them1 and these are the only creatures that pass through life unperceived4 ,to them it is not given to cross the zone of revelation1 the great zone of the firm and faithful light4 ,we cannot conceive what sort of man is he who has never been silent4 ,it is to us as though his soul were featureless4 #8,we do not know each other yet1' wrote to me one whom ,i hold dear above all others1 #8we have not yet dared to be silent together4' ,and it was true3 already did we love each other so deeply that we shrank from the superhuman ordeal4 ,and each time that silence fell upon us--the angel of the supreme truth1 the messenger that brings to the heart the tidings of the unknown--each time did we feel that our souls were craving mercy on their knees1 were begging for a few hours more of innocent falsehood1 a few hours of ignorance1 a few hours of childhood4444 ,and none the less must its hour come4 ,it is the sun of love1 and it ripens the fruit of the soul1 as the sun of heaven ripens the fruits of the earth4 ,but it is not without cause that men fear it2 for none can ever tell what will be the quality of the silence which is about to fall upon them4 ,though all words may be akin1 every silence differs from its fellow2 and1 with rare exceptions1 it is an entire destiny that will be governed by the quality of this first silence which is descending upon two souls4 ,they blend3 we know not where1 for the reservoirs of silence lie far above the reservoirs of thought1 and the strange resultant brew is either sinisterly bitter or profoundly sweet4 ,two souls1 admirable both and of equal power1 may yet give birth to a hostile silence1 and wage pitiless war against each other in the darkness2 while it may be that the soul of a convict shall go forth and commune in divine silence with the soul of a virgin4 ,the result can never be foretold2 all this comes to pass in a heaven that never warns2 and therefore it is that the tenderest of lovers will often defer to the last hour of all the solemn entry of the great revealer of the depths of our being4444 ,for they too are well aware--the love that is truly love brings the most frivolous back to life's centre--they too are well aware that all that had gone before was but as children playing outside the gates1 and that it is now that the walls are falling and existence lying bare4 ,their silence will be even as are the gods within them2 and if in this first silence1 there be not harmony1 there can be no love in their souls1 for the silence will never change4 ,it may rise or it may fall between two souls1 but its nature can never alter2 and even until the death of the lovers will it retain the form1 the attitude and the power that were its own when1 for the first time1 it came into the room4 ,as we advance through life1 it is more and more brought home to us that nothing takes place that is not in accord with some curious1 preconceived design3 and of this we never breathe a word1 we scarcely dare to let our minds dwell upon it1 but of its existence1 somewhere above our heads1 we are absolutely convinced4 ,the most fatuous of men smiles1 at the first encounters1 as though he were the accomplice of the destiny of his brethren4 ,and in this domain1 even those who can speak the most profoundly realise--they1 perhaps1 more than others--that words can never express the real1 special relationship that exists between two beings4 ,were ,i to speak to you at this moment of the gravest things of all--of love1 death or destiny--it is not love1 death or destiny that ,i should touch2 and1 my efforts notwithstanding1 there would always remain between us a truth which had not been spoken1 which we had not even thought of speaking2 and yet it is this truth only1 voiceless though it has been1 which will have lived with us for an instant1 and by which we shall have been wholly absorbed4 ,for that truth was our truth as regards death1 destiny or love1 and it was in silence only that we could perceive it4 ,and nothing save only the silence will have had any importance4 #8,my sisters1' says a child in the fairy-story1 #8you have each of you a secret thought--,i wish to know it4' ,we1 too1 have something that people wish to know1 but it is hidden far above the secret thought--it is our secret silence4 ,but all questions are useless4 ,when our spirit is alarmed1 its own agitation becomes a barrier to the second life that lives in this secret2 and1 would we know what it is that lies hidden there1 we must cultivate silence among ourselves1 for it is then only that for one instant the eternal flowers unfold their petals1 the mysterious flowers whose form and colour are ever changing in harmony with the soul that is by their side4 ,as gold and silver are weighed in pure water1 so does the soul test its weight in silence1 and the words that we let fall have no meaning apart from the silence that wraps them round4 ,if ,i tell some one that ,i love him--as ,i may have told a hundred others--my words will convey nothing to him2 but the silence which will ensue1 if ,i do indeed love him1 will make clear in what depths lie the roots of my love1 and will in its turn give birth to a conviction1 that shall itself be silent2 and in the course of a lifetime1 this silence and this conviction will never again be the same4444 ,is it not silence that determines and fixes the savour of love8 ,deprived of it1 love would lose its eternal essence and perfume4 ,who has not known those silent moments which separated the lips to reunite the souls8 ,it is these that we must ever seek4 ,there is no silence more docile than the silence of love1 and it is indeed the only one that we may claim for ourselves alone4 ,the other great silences1 those of death1 grief1 or destiny1 do not belong to us4 ,they come towards us at their own hour1 following in the track of events1 and those whom they do not meet need not reproach themselves4 ,but we can all go forth to meet the silences of love4 ,they lie in wait for us1 night and day1 at our threshold1 and are no less beautiful than their brothers4 ,and it is thanks to them that those who have seldom wept may know the life of the soul almost as intimately as those to whom much grief has come3 and therefore it is that such of us as have loved deeply have learnt many secrets that are unknown to others3 for thousands and thousands of things quiver in silence on the lips of true friendship and love1 that are not to be found in the silence of other lips1 to which friendship and love are unknown4444 ,,the ,,awakening ,,of ,,the ,,soul ,,the ,,awakening ,,of ,,the ,,soul ,a ,,time will come1 perhaps--and many things there are that herald its approach--a time will come perhaps when our souls will know of each other without the intermediary of the senses4 ,certain it is that there passes not a day but the soul adds to its ever-widening domain4 ,it is very much nearer to our visible self1 and takes a far greater part in all our actions1 than was the case two or three centuries ago4 ,a spiritual epoch is perhaps upon us2 an epoch to which a certain number of analogies are found in history4 ,for there are periods recorded1 when the soul1 in obedience to unknown laws1 seemed to rise to the very surface of humanity1 whence it gave clearest evidence of its existence and of its power4 ,and this existence and this power reveal themselves in countless ways1 diverse and unforeseen4 ,it would seem1 at moments such as these1 as though humanity were on the point of struggling from beneath the crushing burden of matter that weighs it down4 ,a spiritual influence is abroad that soothes and comforts2 and the sternest1 direst laws of ,nature yield here and there4 ,men are nearer to themselves1 nearer to their brothers2 in the look of their eyes1 in the love of their hearts1 there is deeper earnestness and tenderer fellowship4 ,their understanding of women1 children1 animals1 plants--nay1 of all things--becomes more pitiful and more profound4 ,the statues1 paintings and writings that these men have left us may perhaps not be perfect1 but1 none the less does there dwell therein a secret power1 an indescribable grace1 held captive and imperishable for ever4 ,a mysterious brotherhood and love must have shone forth from the eyes of these men2 and signs of a life that we cannot explain are everywhere1 vibrating by the side of the life of every day4 ,such knowledge as we possess of ancient ,egypt induces us to believe that she passed through one of these spiritual epochs4 ,at a very remote period in the history of ,india1 the soul must have drawn very near to the surface of life1 to a point1 indeed1 that it has never since touched2 and unto this day strange phenomena owe their being to the recollection1 or lingering remnants1 of its almost immediate presence4 ,many other similar moments there have been1 when the spiritual element seemed to be struggling far down in the depths of humanity1 like a drowning man battling for life beneath the waters of a great river4 ,bethink you of ,persia1 for instance1 of ,alexandria1 and the two mystic centuries of the ,middle ,ages4 ,on the other hand1 there have been centuries in which purest intellect and beauty reigned supreme1 though the soul lay unrevealed4 ,thus it was far from ,greece and ,rome1 and from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in ,france4 7,as regards this last1 however1 we may perhaps be speaking only of the surface2 for in its depths many mysteries lie concealed--we must remember ,claude de ,saint-,martin1 ,cagliostro--who is passed over too lightly--,pascalis1 and many others besides47 ,something is lacking1 we know not what2 barriers are stretched across the secret passages2 the eyes of beauty are sealed4 ,well-nigh hopeless1 indeed1 is the attempt to convey this in words1 or to explain why the atmosphere of divinity and fatality that enwraps the ,greek dramas does not seem to us to be the true atmosphere of the soul4 ,majestic and all-abiding as is the mystery that lingers on the horizon of these matchless tragedies1 it is yet not the pitiful1 brotherly mystery1 quickened into profound activity1 that we find in other works less great and less beautiful4 ,and to come nearer to our own time--though ,racine may indeed be the unerring poet of the woman's heart1 who would dare to claim for him that he has ever taken one step towards her soul8 ,what can you tell me of the soul of ,andromache1 of ,britannicus8 ,racine's characters have no knowledge of themselves beyond the words by which they express themselves1 and not one of these words can pierce the dykes that keep back the sea4 ,his men and women are alone1 fearfully alone1 on the surface of a planet that no longer revolves in the heavens4 ,if they were to be silent1 they would cease to be4 ,they have no invisible principle1 and one might almost believe that some isolating substance had crept between their spirit and themselves1 between the life which has its roots in every created thing and that which1 for one fleeting moment1 brushes against a passion1 a grief or a hope4 ,truly there are centuries in which the soul lies dormant and slumbers undisturbed4 ,but to-day it is clearly making a mighty effort4 ,its manifestations are everywhere1 and they are strangely urgent1 pressing1 imperious even1 as though the order had been given1 and no time must be lost4 ,it must be preparing for a decisive struggle2 and none can foretell the issues that may be dependent on the result1 be this victory or flight4 ,perhaps never to this day has it enlisted in its service such diverse1 irresistible forces4 ,it is as though an invisible wall hemmed it in1 and one knows not whether it be quivering in its death-throb or quickened by a new life4 ,i will say nothing of the occult powers1 of which signs are everywhere--of magnetism1 telepathy1 levitation1 the unsuspected properties of radiating matter1 and countless other phenomena that are battering down the door of orthodox science4 ,these things are known of all men1 and can easily be verified4 ,and truly they may well be the merest bagatelle by the side of the vast upheaval that is actually in progress1 for the soul is like a dreamer1 enthralled by sleep1 who struggles with all his might to move an arm or raise an eyelid4 ,other regions there are where its action is even more effective1 though the crowd there is less regardful1 and none but trained eyes can see4 ,does it not seem as though the supreme cry of the soul were at last about to pierce the dense clouds of error that still envelop it in music8 ,do not certain pictures by foreign painters reveal the sacred majesty of an invisible presence1 as it never has been revealed before8 ,are there not masterpieces in literature that are illumined by a flame which differs in its very essence from the strangest beacon-fires that lit up the writings of bygone days8 ,a transformation of silence--strange and inexplicable--is upon us1 and the reign of the positive sublime1 absolute to this day1 seems destined to be overthrown4 ,i will not linger on this subject1 for the time has not yet come for lucid discussion of these things2 but ,i feel that a more pressing offer of spiritual freedom has rarely been made to mankind4 ,nay1 there are moments when it bears the semblance of an ultimatum2 and therefore does it behove us to neglect nothing1 but indeed with all eagerness to accept this imperious invitation1 that is like unto the dream that is lost for ever1 unless instantaneously seized4 ,we must be heedful2 it is not without fit reason that our soul bestirs itself4 ,though it be perhaps from the table-lands of speculative thought that this agitation is the most clearly to be noted1 yet may there well be signs of it in the most ordinary paths of life1 unsuspected of any2 for not a flower opens on the hill-top but at length it falls into the valley4 ,has it fallen already8 ,i know not4 ,but this much at least is abundantly proved to us1 that in the work-a-day lives of the very humblest of men1 spiritual phenomena manifest themselves--mysterious1 direct workings1 that bring soul nearer to soul2 and of all this we can find no record in former times4 ,and the reason must surely be that these things were not so clearly evident then3 for at every period there have been men who penetrated to the innermost recesses of life1 to its most secret affinities3 and all that they learned of the heart1 the soul and the spirit of their epoch has been handed down to us4 ,it may well be that similar influences were at work even in those times2 but they could not have been as universal1 as active and vigorous as they are to-day1 nor could they have sunk so deep into the very life-springs of the race2 for in that case1 they had surely not escaped the notice of those sages1 and been passed by in silence4 ,and ,i do not refer now to #8scientific spiritism1' or its telepathic phenomena1 to #8materialisation1' or other manifestations that ,i have enumerated above3 but to the incidents1 the interventions1 that occur unceasingly in the dreariest lives of all1 those of the men who are the most forgetful of their eternal rights4 ,also must it be borne in mind that we are not considering the ordinary text-book psychology--which concerns itself only with such spiritual phenomena as are the most closely interwoven with the material1 having indeed usurped the beautiful name of ,psyche--the psychology of which ,i speak is transcendental1 and throws light on the direct relationship that exists between soul and soul1 and on the sensibility as well as the extraordinary presence of the soul4 ,it is a science that is in its infancy2 but by it shall men be taken a full step higher1 and very speedily shall it dismiss for ever the elementary psychology that has been dominant to this day4 ,this #8immediate' psychology is descending from the mountain tops1 and laying siege to the humblest of valleys2 and even in the most mediocre of writings is its presence to be felt4 ,and indeed1 than this1 nothing could prove more clearly that the pressure of the soul has increased among mankind1 and that its mysterious influence is diffusing itself among the people4 ,but we are now drawing near to things that are well-nigh unspeakable1 and such examples as one can give are necessarily ordinary and incomplete4 ,the following are elementary and readily appreciable4 ,in former days1 if there was question1 for a moment1 of a presentiment1 of the strange impression produced by a chance meeting or a look1 of a decision that the unknown side of human reason had governed1 of an intervention1 or a force1 inexplicable and yet understood1 of the secret laws of sympathy and antipathy1 of elective and instinctive affinities1 of the overwhelming influence of the thing that had not been spoken--in former days1 these problems would have been carelessly passed by1 and1 besides1 it was but seldom that they intruded themselves upon the serenity of the thinker4 ,they seemed to come about by the merest chance4 ,that they are ever pressing upon life1 unceasingly and with prodigious force--this was unsuspected of all--and the philosopher hastened back to familiar studies of passion1 and of incident that floated on the surface4 ,these spiritual phenomena1 to which1 in bygone days1 even the greatest and wisest of our brothers scarcely gave a thought1 are to-day being earnestly studied by the very smallest2 and herein are we shown once again that the human soul is a plant of matchless unity1 whose branches1 when the hour is come1 all burst into blossom together4 ,the peasant1 to whom the power of expressing that which lies in his soul should suddenly be given1 would at this moment pour forth ideas that were not yet in the soul of ,racine4 ,and thus it is that men of a genius much inferior to that of ,shakespeare or ,racine have yet had revealed to them glimpses of a secretly luminous life1 whose outer crust1 alone1 had come within the ken of those masters4 ,for1 however great the soul1 it avails not that it should wander in isolation through space or time4 ,unaided1 it can do but little4 ,it is the flower of the multitude4 ,when the spiritual sea is storm-tossed1 and its whole surface restless and troubled1 then is the moment ripe for the mighty soul to appear2 but if it come at time of slumber1 its utterance will be but of the dreams of sleep4 ,hamlet--to take the most illustrious of all examples--,hamlet1 at ,elsinore--at every moment does he advance to the very brink of awakening2 and yet1 though his haggard face be damp with icy sweat1 there are words that he cannot utter1 words that to-day would doubtless flow readily from his lips1 because the soul of the passer-by1 be he tramp or thief1 would be there to help him4 ,for1 in truth1 it would seem that already there are fewer veils that enwrap the soul2 and were ,hamlet now to look into the eyes of his mother1 or of ,claudius1 there would be revealed to him the things that1 then1 he did not know4 ,is it thoroughly clear to you--this is one of the strangest1 most disquieting of truths--is it thoroughly clear to you that1 if there be evil in your heart1 your mere presence will probably proclaim it to-day a hundred times more clearly than would have been the case two or three centuries ago8 ,is it fully borne home to you that if you have perchance this morning done anything that shall have brought sadness to a single human being1 the peasant1 with whom you are about to talk of the rain or the storm1 will know of it--his soul will have been warned even before his hand has thrown open the door8 ,though you assume the face of a saint1 a hero or a martyr1 the eye of the passing child will not greet you with the same unapproachable smile if there lurk within you an evil thought1 an injustice1 or a brother's tears4 ,a hundred years ago the soul of that child would perhaps have passed1 unheeding1 by the side of yours4444 ,truly it is becoming difficult to cherish hatred1 envy1 or treachery in one's heart1 secure from observation2 for the souls even of the most indifferent are incessantly keeping vigil around us4 ,our ancestors have not spoken of these things1 and we realise that the life in which we bestir ourselves is quite other than that which they have depicted4 ,have they deceived us1 or did they not know8 ,signs and words no longer count for anything1 and in mystic circles it is the mere presence that decides almost all4 ,even the ancient #8will-power'--the logical will-power that men have professed to understand so well--even this is being transformed in its turn1 and moulded beneath the pressure of mighty1 deep searching1 inexplicable laws4 ,the last refuges are disappearing1 and men are drawing closer to each other4 ,far above words and acts do they judge their fellows--nay1 far above thought--for that which they see1 though they understand it not1 lies well beyond the domain of thought4 ,and this is one of the great signs by which the spiritual periods ,i spoke of before shall be known4 ,it is felt on all sides that the conditions of work-a-day life are changing1 and the youngest of us already differ entirely in speech and action from the men of the preceding generation4 ,a mass of useless conventions1 habits1 pretences1 and intermediaries are being swept into the gulf2 and it is by the invisible alone that1 though we know it not1 nearly all of us judge each other4 ,if ,i enter your room for the first time you will not pronounce the secret sentence that1 according to the laws of practical psychology1 each man pronounces in the presence of his fellow4 ,in vain shall you try to tell me whither you have been to learn who ,i am1 but you shall come back to me1 bearing the weight of unspeakable certitudes4 ,your father1 perhaps1 would have judged me otherwise1 and would have been mistaken4 ,we can but believe that man will soon touch man1 and that the atmosphere will change4 #8,have we1' asks ,claude de ,saint-,martin1 the great #8unknown philosopher1' #8have we advanced one step further on the radiant path of enlightenment1 that leads to the simplicity of men8' ,let us wait in silence3 perhaps ere long we shall be conscious of #8the murmur of the gods4' ,,the ,,pre-,,destined ,,the ,,pre-,,destined ,,they are known to most men1 and there are few mothers who have not seen them4 ,perhaps they are as inevitable as life's sorrows2 and the men among whom they dwell become the better for the knowledge of them1 and the sadder1 and the more gentle4 ,they are strange4 ,as children1 life seems nearer to them than to other children2 they appear to suspect nothing1 and yet is there in their eyes so profound a certainty that we feel they must know all1 that there must have been evenings when they found time to tell themselves their secret4 ,at the moment when their brothers are still groping their way blindly in the mysterious land between birth and life1 they have already understood2 they are erect1 ready with hand and soul4 ,in all haste1 but wisely and with minute care1 do they prepare themselves to live2 and this very haste is a sign upon which mothers1 the discreet1 unsuspected confidants of all that cannot be told1 can scarce bring themselves to look4 ,their stay among us is often so short that we are unconscious of their presence2 they go away without saying a word1 and are for ever unknown to us4 ,but others there are who linger for a moment1 who look at us with an eager smile1 and seem to be on the point of confessing that they know all2 and then1 towards their twentieth year1 they leave us1 hurriedly1 muffling their footsteps1 as though they had just discovered that they had chosen the wrong dwelling-place1 and had been about to pass their lives among men whom they did not know4 ,they themselves say but little1 and there is a cloud that falls around them at the moment when men seem on the point of touching them1 or when hurt has been done them4 ,some days there are when they seem to be of us1 and among us1 but a sudden evening comes and they are so far away that we dare not look at them1 or ask a question4 ,it is as though they were on life's further shore1 and the feeling rushes in upon us that now1 at last1 the hour has come for affirming that which is graver1 deeper1 more human1 more real than friendship1 pity or love2 for saying the thing that is piteously flapping its wings at the back of our throat1 and craving for utterance--the thing that our ignorance crushes1 that we never have said1 that we never shall say1 for so many lives are spent in silence6 ,and time rushes on2 and who is there of us but has lingered and waited till it was too late1 and there was no one to listen to his words8 ,why have they come to us--why do they go so soon8 ,is it only that we may be convinced of the utter aimlessness of life8 ,it is a mystery that ever eludes us1 and all our searchings are vain4 ,i have often seen these things happen2 one day they were so near to me that ,i scarcely knew was it myself or another whom they concerned4444 ,for it was thus that my brother died4 ,and though he alone had heard the warning whisper1 be it ever so unconsciously--for from his earliest days he had concealed the message of disease within him--yet surely had the knowledge of what was to come been borne in upon us also4 ,what are the signs that set apart the creatures for whom dire events lie in wait8 ,nothing is visible1 and yet all is revealed4 ,they are afraid of us1 for that we are ever crying out to them of our knowledge1 struggle against it as we may2 and when we are with them1 they can see that1 in our hearts1 we are oppressed by their destiny4 ,something there is that we hide from most men1 and we ourselves are ignorant of what this thing may be4 ,strange secrets of life and death pass between two creatures who meet for the first time2 and many other secrets besides1 nameless to this day1 but which at once thrust their impress upon our bearing1 our features1 the look of our eyes2 and even while we press the hand of our friend1 our soul will have soared perhaps beyond the confines of this life4 ,it may be that when two men are together1 they are unconscious of any hidden thoughts1 but there are things that lie deeper1 and are far more imperious1 than thought4 ,we are not the lords of these unfathomable gifts2 and we are ever betraying the presence of the prophet to whom speech is not given4 ,we are never the same with others as when we are alone2 we are different1 even1 when we are in the dark with them1 and the look in our eyes changes as the past or future flashes before us2 and therefore it is that1 though we know it not1 we are ever watchful and on our guard4 ,when we meet those who are not to live long1 we are only conscious of the fate that is hanging over them2 we see nothing else4 ,if they could they would deceive us1 so that they might the more readily deceive themselves4 ,they do all in their power to mislead us2 they imagine that their eager smile1 their burning interest in life1 will conceal the truth2 but none the less does the event already loom large before us1 and seem indeed to be the mainstay1 nay1 the very reason of their existence4 ,death has again betrayed them1 and they realise1 in bitter sadness1 that nothing is hidden from us1 that there are certain voices that cannot be still4 ,who can tell us of the power which events possess--whether they issue from us1 or whether we owe our being to them8 ,do we attract them1 or are we attracted by them8 ,do we mould them1 or do they mould us8 ,are they always unerring in their course8 ,why do they come to us like the bee to the hive1 like the dove to the cote2 and where do they find a resting-place when we are not there to meet them8 ,whence is it that they come to us2 and why are they shaped in our image1 as though they were our brothers8 ,are their workings in the past or in the future2 and are the more powerful of them those that are no longer1 or those that are not yet8 ,is it to-day or to-morrow that moulds us8 ,do we not all spend the greater part of our lives under the shadow of an event that has not yet come to pass8 ,i have noticed the same grave gestures1 the footsteps that seemed to tend towards a goal that was all too near1 the presentiments that chilled the blood1 the fixed1 immovable look--,i have noticed all these in the men1 even1 whose end was to come about by accident1 the men on whom death would suddenly seize from without4 ,and yet were they as eager as their brethren1 who bore the seeds of death within them4 ,their faces were the same4 ,to them1 too1 life was fraught with more seriousness than to those who were to live their full span4 ,the same careful1 silent watchfulness marked their actions4 ,they had no time to lose2 they had to be in readiness at the same hour2 so completely had this event1 which no prophet could have foretold1 become the very life of their life4 ,it is death that is the guide of our life1 and our life has no goal but death4 ,our death is the mould into which our life flows3 it is death that has shaped our features4 ,of the dead alone should portraits be painted1 for it is only they who are truly themselves1 and who1 for one instant1 stand revealed even as they are4 ,what life is there but becomes radiant when the pure1 cold1 simple light falls on it at the last hour8 ,it is1 perhaps1 the same light that floats around children's faces when they smile at us2 and the silence that steals over us then is akin to that of the chamber where there will be peace for evermore4 ,i have known many whom the same death was leading by the hand1 and when my memory dwells upon them ,i see a band of children1 of youths and maidens1 who seem to be all coming forth from the same house4 ,a strange fraternity already unites them3 it may be that they recognise each other by birth-marks we cannot discover1 that they furtively exchange solemn signals of silence4 ,they are the eager children of precocious death4 ,at school we were vaguely conscious of them4 ,they seemed to be at the same time seeking and avoiding each other1 like people who are afflicted with the same infirmity4 ,they were to be seen together1 in remote corners of the garden1 under the trees4 ,their mysterious smile flew fitfully across their lips1 and there lurked a gravity beneath1 a curious fear lest a secret should escape4 ,silence would almost always fall upon them1 when those who were to live drew near4 ,were they already speaking of the event1 or did they know that the event was speaking through them1 and in their despite8 ,were they forming a circle round it1 and trying to keep it hidden from indifferent eyes8 ,there were times when they seemed to be looking down upon us from a lofty tower2 and1 for all that we were the stronger1 we dared not molest them4 ,for truly there is nothing that can ever be really hidden2 and whosoever meets me knows all that ,i have done and shall do1 all that ,i have thought and do think--nay1 he knows the very day on which ,i shall die2 but the means of telling what he knows is not given to him1 though he speak never so softly1 and whisper to his heart4 ,we pass heedlessly by the side of all that our hands cannot touch2 and perhaps too great a knowledge would be ours if all that we do know were revealed to us4 ,our real life is not the life we live1 and we feel that our deepest1 nay1 our most intimate thoughts are quite apart from ourselves1 for we are other than our thoughts and our dreams4 ,and it is only at special moments--it may be by merest accident--that we live our own life4 ,will the day ever dawn when we shall be what we are8444 ,in the meanwhile1 we felt that they were strangers in our midst4 ,a sensation of awe crept into our life4 ,sometimes they would walk with us along the corridor1 or in the courtyard1 and we could scarcely keep pace with them4 ,sometimes they would join us at our games1 and the game would no longer be the same4 ,there were some who could not find their brethren4 ,they would wander in solitude in our midst1 while we played and shouted3 they had no friends among those who were not about to die4 ,and yet we loved them1 and the deepest friendliness shone from their eyes4 ,what was there that divided us from them8 ,what is there that divides us all8 ,what is this sea of mysteries in whose depths we have our being8 ,the love that we felt was the love that seeks not to express itself1 because it is not of this world4 ,it is a love1 perhaps1 that cannot be put to the proof2 it may seem feeble1 uncertain1 and the smallest1 most ordinary friendship may appear to triumph over it--but none the less does its life lie deeper than our life1 and none the less1 notwithstanding its seeming indifference1 is it reserved for a time when doubt and uncertainty shall be no longer4444 ,its voice does not make itself heard now because its moment for speaking has not yet come2 and it is never those whom we enfold in our arms that we love the most deeply4 ,for there is a side of life--and it is the best1 the purest1 the noblest side--which never blends with the ordinary life1 and the eyes even of lovers themselves can seldom pierce through the masonry that is built up of silence and love4444 ,or was it that we avoided them1 because1 though younger than ourselves1 they still were our elders8444 ,did we know that they were not of our age1 and did we fear them1 as though they were sitting in judgment upon us8 ,a curious steadfastness already lurked in their eyes2 and if1 in our moments of agitation1 their glance rested upon us1 it would soothe and comfort us1 we knew not why1 and there would be an instant of strangest silence4 ,we would turn round3 they were watching us and smiling gravely4 ,there were two for whom a violent death was lying in wait--,i remember their faces well4 ,but almost all were timid1 and tried to pass by unperceived4 ,they were weighed down by some deadly sense of shame1 they seemed to be ever beseeching forgiveness for a fault they knew not of1 but which was near at hand4 ,they came towards us and our eyes met2 we drew asunder1 silently1 and all was clear to us1 though we knew nothing4 ,,mystic ,,morality ,,mystic ,,morality ,,it is only too evident that the invisible agitations of the kingdoms within us are arbitrarily set on foot by the thoughts we shelter4 ,our myriad intuitions are the veiled queens who steer our course through life1 though we have no words in which to speak of them4 ,how strangely do we diminish a thing as soon as we try to express it in words6 ,we believe we have dived down to the most unfathomable depths1 and when we reappear on the surface1 the drop of water that glistens on our trembling finger-tips no longer resembles the sea from which it came4 ,we believe we have discovered a grotto that is stored with bewildering treasure2 we come back to the light of day1 and the gems we have brought are false--mere pieces of glass--and yet does the treasure shine on1 unceasingly1 in the darkness6 ,there is something between ourselves and our soul that nothing can penetrate2 and there are moments1 says ,emerson1 #8in which we court suffering1 in the hope that here at least we shall find reality1 sharp peaks and edges of truth4' ,i have said elsewhere that the souls of mankind seemed to be drawing nearer to each other1 and even if this be not a statement that can be proved1 it is none the less based upon deep-rooted1 though obscure1 convictions4 ,it is indeed difficult to advance facts in its support1 for facts are nothing but the laggards1 the spies and camp followers of the great forces we cannot see4 ,but surely there are moments when we seem to feel1 more deeply than did our fathers before us1 that we are not in the presence of ourselves alone4 ,neither those who believe in a ,god1 nor those who disbelieve1 are found to act in themselves as though they were sure of being alone4 ,we are watched1 we are under strictest supervision1 and it comes from elsewhere than the indulgent darknesses of each man's conscience6 ,perhaps the spiritual vases are less closely sealed now than in bygone days1 perhaps more power has come to the waves of the sea within us8 ,i know not3 all that we can state with certainty is that we no longer attach the same importance to a certain number of traditional faults1 but this is in itself a token of a spiritual victory4 ,it would seem as though our code of morality were changing--advancing with timid steps towards loftier regions that cannot yet be seen4 ,and the moment has perhaps come when certain new questions should be asked4 ,what would happen1 let us say1 if our soul were suddenly to take visible shape1 and were compelled to advance into the midst of her assembled sisters1 stripped of all her veils1 but laden with her most secret thoughts1 and dragging behind her the most mysterious1 inexplicable acts of her life8 ,of what would she be ashamed8 ,which are the things she fain would hide8 ,would she1 like a bashful maiden1 cloak beneath her long hair the numberless sins of the flesh8 ,she knows not of them1 and those sins have never come near her4 ,they were committed a thousand miles from her throne2 and the soul even of the prostitute would pass unsuspectingly through the crowd1 with the transparent smile of the child in her eyes4 ,she has not interfered1 she was living her life where the light fell on her1 and it is this life only that she can recall4 ,are there any sins or crimes of which she could be guilty8 ,has she betrayed1 deceived1 lied8 ,has she inflicted suffering or been the cause of tears8 ,where was she while this man delivered over his brother to the enemy8 ,perhaps1 far away from him1 she was sobbing2 and from that moment she will have become more beautiful and more profound4 ,she will feel no shame for that which she has not done2 she can remain pure in the midst of terrible murder4 ,often1 she will transform into inner radiance all the evil wrought before her4 ,these things are governed by an invisible principle2 and hence1 doubtless1 has arisen the inexplicable indulgence of the gods4 ,and our indulgence1 too4 ,strive as we may1 we are bound to pardon2 and when death1 #8the great ,conciliator1' has passed by1 is there one of us who does not fall on his knees and silently1 with every token of forgiveness1 bend over the departing soul8 ,when ,i stand before the rigid body of my bitterest enemy3 when ,i look upon the pale lips that slandered me1 the sightless eyes that so often brought the tears to mine1 the cold hands that may have wrought me so much wrong--do you imagine that ,i can still think of revenge8 ,death has come and atoned for all4 ,i have no grievance against the soul of the man before me4 ,instinctively do ,i recognise that it soars high above the gravest faults and the cruellest wrongs 7and how admirable and full of significance is this instinct674 ,if there linger still a regret within me1 it is not that ,i am unable to inflict suffering in my turn1 but it is perhaps that my love was not great enough and that my forgiveness has come too late4444 ,one might almost believe that these things were already understood by us1 deep down in our soul4 ,we do not judge our fellows by their acts--nay1 not even by their most secret thoughts2 for these are not always undiscernible1 and we go far beyond the undiscernible4 ,a man shall have committed crimes reputed to be the vilest of all1 and yet it may be that even the blackest of these shall not have tarnished1 for one single moment1 the breath of fragrance and ethereal purity that surrounds his presence2 while at the approach of a philosopher or martyr our soul may be steeped in unendurable gloom4 ,it may happen that a saint or hero shall choose his friend from among men whose faces bear the stamp of every degraded thought2 and that1 by the side of others1 whose brows are radiant with lofty and magnanimous dreams1 he shall not feel a #8human and brotherly atmosphere' about him4 ,what tidings do these things bring us8 ,and wherein lies their significance8 ,are there laws deeper than those by which deeds and thoughts are governed8 ,what are the things we have learned and why do we always act in accordance with rules that none ever mention1 but which are the only rules that cannot err8 ,for it may be boldly declared that1 appearances notwithstanding1 neither hero nor saint has chosen wrongly4 ,they have but obeyed1 and even though the saint be deceived and sold by the man he has preferred1 still will there abide with him something imperishable1 something by which he shall know that he was right and that he has nothing to regret4 ,the soul will ever remember that the other soul was pure4444 ,when we venture to move the mysterious stone that covers these mysteries1 the heavily charged air surges up from the gulf1 and words and thoughts fall around us like poisoned flies4 ,even our inner life seems trivial by the side of these unchanging deepnesses4 ,when the angels stand before you1 will you glory in never having sinned2 and is there not an inferior innocence8 ,when ,jesus read the wretched thoughts of the ,pharisees who surrounded the paralytic of ,capernaum1 are you sure that as ,he looked at them1 ,he judged their soul--and condemned it--without beholding1 far away behind their thoughts1 a brightness that was perhaps everlasting8 ,and would ,he be a ,god if ,his condemnation were irrevocable8 ,but why does ,he speak as though ,he lingered on the threshold8 ,will the basest thought or the noblest inspiration leave a mark on the diamond's surface8 ,what god1 that is indeed on the heights1 but must smile at our gravest faults1 as we smile at the puppies on the hearthrug8 ,and what god would he be who would not smile8 ,if you become truly pure1 do you think you will try to conceal the petty motives of your great actions from the eyes of the angels before you8 ,and yet are there not in us many things that will look pitiful indeed before the gods assembled on the mountain8 ,surely that must be1 and our soul knows full well that it will have to render its account4 ,it lives in silence1 and the hand of a great judge is ever upon it1 though his sentences are beyond our ken4 ,what accounts will it have to render8 ,where shall we find the code of morality that can enlighten us8 ,is there a mysterious morality that holds sway in regions far beyond our thoughts8 ,are our most secret desires only the helpless satellites of a central star1 that is hidden from our eyes8 ,does a transparent tree exist within us1 and are all our actions and all our virtues only its ephemeral flowers and leaves8 ,indeed we know not what are the wrongs that our soul can commit1 nor what there can be that should make us blush before a higher intelligence or before another soul2 and yet which of us feels that he is pure and does not dread the coming of the judge8 ,and where is there a soul that is not afraid of another soul8 99 99 99 99 99 ,here1 we are no longer in the well-known valleys of human and psychic life4 ,we find ourselves at the door of the third enclosure3 that of the divine life of the mystics4 ,we have to grope timidly1 and make sure of every footstep1 as we cross the threshold4 ,and even when the threshold is crossed1 where shall certainty be found8 ,where shall we discover those marvellous laws that we are perhaps constantly disobeying3 laws of whose existence our conscience is ignorant1 though our soul has been warned8 ,whence comes the shadow of a mysterious transgression that at times creeps over our life and makes it so hard to bear8 ,what are the great spiritual sins of which we can be guilty8 ,will it be our shame to have striven against our soul1 or is there an invisible struggle between our soul and ,god8 ,and is this struggle so strangely silent that not even a whisper floats on the air8 ,is there a moment when we can hear the queen whose lips are sealed8 ,she is sternly silent when events do but float on the surface2 but there are others perhaps that we scarcely heed1 which have their roots deep down in eternity4 ,some one is dying1 some one looks at you1 or cries1 some other is coming towards you for the first time1 or an enemy is passing by--may she not perhaps whisper then8 ,and if you listened to her1 while already you no longer love1 in the future1 the friend at whom you now are smiling8 ,but all this is nothing1 and is not even near to the outer lights of the abyss4 ,one cannot speak of these things--the solitude is too great4 #8,in truth1' says ,novalis1 #8it is only here and there that the soul bestirs itself2 when will it move as a whole1 and when will humanity begin to feel with one conscience8' ,it is only when this takes place that some will learn4 ,we must wait in patience till this superior conscience be gradually1 slowly1 formed4 ,then perhaps some one will come to whom it will be given to express what it is that we all feel as regards this side of the soul1 which is like to the face of the moon1 that none have perceived since the world began4 ,,on ,,women ,,on ,,women ,,in these domains also are the laws unknown4 ,far above our heads1 in the very centre of the sky1 shines the star of our destined love2 and it is in the atmosphere of that star1 and illumined by its rays1 that every passion that stirs us will come to life1 even to the end4 ,and though we choose to right or to left of us1 on the heights or in the shallows2 though1 in our struggle to break through the enchanted circle that is drawn around all the acts of our life1 we do violence to the instinct that moves us1 and try our hardest to choose against the choice of destiny1 yet shall the woman we elect always have come to us straight from the unvarying star4 ,and if1 like ,don ,juan1 we take a thousand and three to our embraces1 still shall we find1 on that evening when arms fall asunder and lips disunite1 that it is always the same woman1 good or bad1 tender or cruel1 loving or faithless1 that is standing before us4 ,for indeed we can never emerge from the little circle of light that destiny traces about our footsteps2 and one might almost believe that the extent and the hue of this impassable ring are known even to the men who are furthest from us4 ,it is the tinge of its spiritual rays that they perceive first of all1 and therefore will it come about that they will either smilingly hold out their hand to us or draw it back in fear4 ,a superior atmosphere exists1 in which we all know each other2 and there is a mysterious truth--deeper far than the material truth--to which we at once have recourse1 when we try to form a conception of a stranger4 ,have we not all experienced these things1 which take place in the impenetrable regions of almost astral humanity8 ,if you receive a letter that has come to you from some far-away island lost in the heart of the ocean1 from a stranger whose very existence was unknown to you1 are you quite sure that it is really a stranger who has written to you8 ,and1 as you read1 do not certain deep-rooted1 infallible convictions--to which ordinary convictions are as nothing--come to you concerning this soul that is thus meeting yours1 in spheres known to the gods alone8 ,and1 further1 can you not understand that this soul1 that was dreaming of yours1 heedless of time or space1 that this soul1 too1 had certitudes akin to your own8 ,strangest recognitions take place on all sides1 and we cannot hide our existence4 ,perhaps nothing brings into broader daylight the subtle bonds that interconnect all mankind than the little mysteries which attend the exchange of a few letters between two strangers4 ,this is perhaps one of the minute crevices--wretchedly insignificant1 no doubt1 but so few there are that the faintest glimmer of light must content us--this is perhaps one of the minute crevices in the door of darkness1 through which we are allowed to peer for one instant1 and so conceive to ourselves what must be taking place in the grotto of treasures1 undiscovered to this day4 ,look through the passive correspondence of any man1 and you shall find in it an astonishing unity4 ,i know neither of the two men who have written to me this morning1 yet am ,i already aware that my reply to the one will differ in its essence from my reply to the other4 ,i have caught a glimpse of the invisible4 ,and1 in my turn1 when some one1 whom ,i have never seen1 writes to me1 ,i know quite well that had he been writing to the friend who is now before me1 his letter had not been exactly the same4 ,a difference will there always be--but it is spiritual and intangible4 ,it is the invisible signal of the soul that salutes its fellow4 ,doubtless must there be regions outside our ken where none are unknown2 a common fatherland whither we may go and meet each other1 and whence the return knows no hardship4 ,and it is in this common fatherland also that we chose the women we loved1 wherefore it is that we cannot have erred1 nor can they have erred either4 ,the kingdom of love is1 before all else1 the great kingdom of certitude1 for it is within its bounds that the soul is possessed of the utmost leisure4 ,there1 truly1 they have naught to do but to recognise each other1 offer deepest admiration1 and ask their questions--tearfully1 like the maid who has found the sister she had lost--while1 far away from them1 arm links itself in arm and breaths are mingling4444 ,at last has a moment come when they can smile and live their own life--for a truce has been called in the stern routine of daily existence--and it is perhaps from the heights of this smile and these ineffable glances that springs the mysterious perfume that pervades love's dreariest moments1 that preserves for ever the memory of the time when the lips first met4444 ,of the true1 pre-destined love alone1 do ,i speak here4 ,when ,fate sends forth the woman it has chosen for us--sends her forth from the fastnesses of the great spiritual cities in which we1 all unconsciously1 dwell1 and she awaits us at the crossing of the road we have to traverse when the hour is come--we are warned at the first glance4 ,some there are who attempt to force the hand of ,fate4 ,wildly pressing down their eyelids1 so as not to see that which had to be seen--struggling with all their puny strength against the eternal forces--they will contrive perhaps to cross the road and go towards another1 sent thither but not for them4 ,but1 strive as they may1 they will not succeed in #8stirring up the dead waters that lie in the great tarn of the future4' ,nothing will happen2 the pure force will not descend from the heights1 and those wasted hours and kisses will never become part of the real hours and kisses of their life4444 ,there are times when destiny shuts her eyes1 but she knows full well that1 when evening falls1 we shall return to her1 and that the last word must be hers4 ,she may shut her eyes1 but the time till she re-open them is time that is lost4444 ,it would seem that women are more largely swayed by destiny than ourselves4 ,they submit to its decrees with far more simplicity2 nor is there sincerity in the resistance they offer4 ,they are still nearer to ,god1 and yield themselves with less reserve to the pure workings of the mystery4 ,and therefore is it1 doubtless1 that all the incidents in our life in which they take part seem to bring us nearer to what might almost be the very fountain-head of destiny4 ,it is above all when by their side that moments come1 unexpectedly1 when a #8clear presentiment' flashes across us1 a presentiment of a life that does not always seem parallel to the life we know of4 ,they lead us close to the gates of our being4 ,may it not be during one of those profound moments1 when his head is pillowed on a woman's breast1 that the hero learns to know the strength and steadfastness of his star8 ,and indeed will any true sentiment of the future ever come to the man who has not had his resting-place in a woman's heart8 ,yet again do we enter the troubled circles of the higher conscience4 ,ah6 how true it is that1 here1 too1 #8the so-called psychology is a hobgoblin that has usurped1 in the sanctuary itself1 the place reserved for the veritable images of the gods4' ,for it is not the surface that always concerns us--nay1 nor is it even the deepest of hidden thoughts4 ,do you imagine that love knows only of thoughts1 and acts1 and words1 and that the soul never emerges from its dungeon8 ,do ,i need to be told whether she whom ,i take in my arms to-day is jealous or faithful1 gay or sad1 sincere or treacherous8 ,do you think that these wretched words can attain the heights whereon our souls repose and where our destiny fulfils itself in silence8 ,what care ,i whether she speak of rain or jewels1 of pins or feathers2 what care ,i though she appear not to understand8 ,do you think that it is for a sublime word ,i thirst when ,i feel that a soul is gazing into my soul8 ,do ,i not know that the most beautiful of thoughts dare not raise their heads when the mysteries confront them8 ,i am ever standing at the sea-shore2 and1 were ,i ,plato1 ,pascal1 or ,michael ,angelo1 and the woman ,i loved merely telling me of her earrings1 the words ,i would say and the words she would say would appear but the same as they floated on the waves of the fathomless inner sea1 that each of us would be contemplating in the other4 ,let but my very loftiest thought be weighed in the scale of life or love1 it will not turn the balance against the three little words that the maid who loves me shall have whispered of her silver bangles1 her pearl necklace1 or her trinkets of glass4444 ,it is we who do not understand1 for that we never rise above the earth-level of our intellect4 ,let us but ascend to the first snows of the mountain1 and all inequalities are levelled by the purifying hand of the horizon that opens before us4 ,what difference then between a pronouncement of ,marcus ,aurelius and the words of the child complaining of the cold8 ,let us be humble1 and learn to distinguish between accident and essence4 ,let not #8sticks that float' cause us to forget the prodigies of the gulf4 ,the most glorious thoughts and the most degraded ideas can no more ruffle the eternal surface of our soul than1 amidst the stars of ,heaven1 ,himalaya or precipice can alter the surface of the earth4 ,a look1 a kiss1 and the certainty of a great invisible presence3 all is said2 and ,i know that she who is by my side is my equal4444 ,but truly this equal is admirable1 and strange2 and1 when love comes to her1 even the lowest of wantons possesses that which we never have1 inasmuch as1 in her thoughts1 love is always eternal4 ,therefore it is1 perhaps1 that1 besides their primitive instincts1 all women have communications with the unknown that are denied to us4 ,great is the distance that separates the best of men from the treasures of the second boundary2 and1 when a solemn moment of life demands a jewel from this treasure1 they no longer remember the paths that thither lead1 and vainly offer to the imperious1 undeceivable circumstance the false trinkets that their intellect has fashioned4 ,but the woman never forgets the path that leads to the centre of her being2 and no matter whether ,i find her in opulence or in poverty1 in ignorance or in fulness of knowledge1 in shame or in glory1 do ,i but whisper one word that has truly come forth from the virgin depths of my soul1 she will retrace her footsteps along the mysterious paths that she has never forgotten1 and without a moment's hesitation will she bring back to me1 from out her inexhaustible stores of love1 a word1 a look1 or a gesture that shall be no less pure than my own4 ,it is as though her soul were ever within call2 for by day and night is she prepared to give answer to the loftiest appeals from another soul2 and the ransom of the poorest is undistinguishable from the ransom of a queen4444 ,with reverence must we draw near to them1 be they lowly or arrogant1 inattentive or lost in dreams1 be they smiling still or plunged in tears2 for they know the things that we do not know1 and have a lamp that we have lost4 ,their abiding-place is at the foot itself of the ,inevitable1 whose well-worn paths are visible to them more clearly than to us4 ,and thence it is that their strange intuitions have come to them1 their gravity at which we wonder2 and we feel that1 even in their most trifling actions1 they are conscious of being upheld by the strong1 unerring hands of the gods4 ,i said before that they drew us nearer to the gates of our being3 verily might we believe1 when we are with them1 that that primeval gate is opening1 amidst the bewildering whisper that doubtless waited on the birth of things1 then when speech was yet hushed1 for fear lest command or forbidding should issue forth1 unheard4444 ,she will never cross the threshold of that gate2 and she awaits us within1 where are the fountain-heads4 ,and when we come and knock from without1 and she opens to our bidding1 her hand will still keep hold of latch and key4 ,she will look1 for one instant1 at the man who has been sent to her1 and in that brief moment she has learned all that had to be learned1 and the years to come have trembled to the end of time4444 ,who shall tell us of what consists the first look of love1 #8that magic wand made of a ray of broken light1' the ray that has issued forth from the eternal home of our being1 that has transformed two souls1 and given them twenty centuries of youth8 ,the door may open again1 or close2 pay no heed1 nor make further effort1 for all is decided4 ,she knows4 ,she will no longer concern herself with the things you do1 or say1 or even think2 and if she notice them1 it will be but with a smile1 and unconsciously will she fling from her all that does not help to confirm the certitudes of that first glance4 ,and if you think you have deceived her1 and that her impression is wrong1 be sure that it is she who is right1 and you yourself who are mistaken2 for you are more truly that which you are in her eyes than that which in your soul you believe yourself to be1 and this even though she may forever misinterpret the meaning of a gesture1 a smile or a tear4444 ,hidden treasures that have not even a name6444 ,i would that all those who have suffered at women's hands1 and found them evil1 would loudly proclaim it1 and give us their reasons2 and if those reasons be well founded we shall be indeed surprised1 and shall have advanced far forward in the mystery4 ,for women are indeed the veiled sisters of all the great things we do not see4 ,they are indeed nearest of kin to the infinite that is about us1 and they alone can still smile at it with the intimate grace of the child1 to whom its father inspires no fear4 ,it is they who preserve here below the pure fragrance of our soul1 like some jewel from ,heaven1 which none know how to use2 and were they to depart1 the spirit would reign in solitude in a desert4 ,theirs are still the divine emotions of the first days2 and the sources of their being lie1 deeper far than ours1 in all that was illimitable4 ,those who complain of them know not the heights whereon the true kisses are to be found1 and verily do ,i pity them4 ,and yet1 how insignificant do women seem when we look at them as we pass by6 ,we see them moving about in their little homes2 this one is bending forward1 down there another is sobbing1 a third sings and the last sews2 and there is not one of us who understands4444 ,we visit them1 as one visits pleasant things2 we approach them with caution and suspicion1 and it is scarcely possible for the soul to enter4 ,we question them1 mistrustfully--they1 who know already1 answer naught1 and we go away1 shrugging our shoulders1 convinced that they do not understand4444 #8,but what need for them to understand1' answers the poet1 who is always right1 #8what need for them to understand1 those thrice happy ones who have chosen the better part1 and who1 even as a pure flame of love in this earth of ours1 token of the celestial fire that irradiates all things1 shine forth only from the pinnacles of temples and the mastheads of ships that wander8 ,some of ,nature's strangest secrets are often revealed1 at sacred moments1 to these maidens who love1 and ingenuously and unconsciously will they declare them4 ,the sage follows in their footsteps to gather up the jewels1 that in their innocence and joy they scatter along the path4 ,the poet1 who feels what they feel1 offers homage to their love1 and tries1 in his songs1 to transplant that love1 that is the germ of the age of gold1 to other times and other countries4' ,for what has been said of the mystics applies above all to women1 since it is they who have preserved the sense of the mystic in our earth to this day4444 ,,the ,,tragical ,,in ,,daily ,,life ,,the ,,tragical ,,in ,,daily ,,life ,,there is a tragic element in the life of every day that is far more real1 far more penetrating1 far more akin to the true self that is in us than the tragedy that lies in great adventure4 ,but1 readily as we all may feel this1 to prove it is by no means easy1 inasmuch as this essential tragic element comprises more than that which is merely material or merely psychological4 ,it goes beyond the determined struggle of man against man1 and desire against desire3 it goes beyond the eternal conflict of duty and passion4 ,its province is rather to reveal to us how truly wonderful is the mere act of living1 and to throw light upon the existence of the soul1 self-contained in the midst of ever-restless immensities2 to hush the discourse of reason and sentiment1 so that above the tumult may be heard the solemn1 uninterrupted whisperings of man and his destiny4 ,it is its province to point out to us the uncertain1 dolorous footsteps of the being1 as he approaches1 or wanders from1 his truth1 his beauty1 or his ,god4 ,and further1 to show us1 and make us understand1 the countless other things therewith connected1 of which tragic poets have but vouchsafed us passing glimpses4 ,and here do we come to an essential point1 for could not these things1 of which we have had only passing glimpses1 be placed in front of the others1 and shown to us first of all8 ,the mysterious chant of the ,infinite1 the ominous silence of the soul and of ,god1 the murmur of ,eternity on the horizon1 the destiny or fatality that we are conscious of within us1 though by what tokens none can tell--do not all these underlie ,king ,lear1 ,macbeth1 ,hamlet8 ,and would it not be possible1 by some interchanging of the rles1 to bring them nearer to us1 and send the actors farther off8 ,is it beyond the mark to say that the true tragic element1 normal1 deep-rooted1 and universal1 that the true tragic element of life only begins at the moment when so-called adventures1 sorrows1 and dangers have disappeared8 ,is the arm of happiness not longer than that of sorrow1 and do not certain of its attributes draw nearer to the soul8 ,must we indeed roar like the ,atrides1 before the ,eternal ,god will reveal ,himself in our life8 and is ,he never by our side at times when the air is calm1 and the lamp burns on1 unflickering8 ,when we think of it1 is it not the tranquillity that is terrible1 the tranquillity watched by the stars8 and is it in tumult or in silence that the spirit of life quickens within us8 ,is it not when we are told1 at the end of the story1 #8,they were happy1' that the great disquiet should intrude itself8 ,what is taking place while they are happy8 ,are there not elements of deeper gravity and stability in happiness1 in a single moment of repose1 than in the whirlwind of passion8 ,is it not then that we at last behold the march of time--ay1 and of many another on-stealing besides1 more secret still--is it not then that the hours rush forward8 ,are not deeper chords set vibrating by all these things than by the dagger-stroke of conventional drama8 ,is it not at the very moment when a man believes himself secure from bodily death that the strange and silent tragedy of the being and the immensities does indeed raise its curtain on the stage8 ,is it while ,i flee before a naked sword that my existence touches its most interesting point8 ,is life always at its sublimest in a kiss8 ,are there not other moments1 when one hears purer voices that do not fade away so soon8 ,does the soul only flower on nights of storm8 ,hitherto1 doubtless1 this belief has prevailed4 ,it is only the life of violence1 the life of bygone days1 that is perceived by nearly all our tragic writers2 and truly may one say that anachronism dominates the stage1 and that dramatic art dates back as many years as the art of sculpture4 ,far different is it with the other arts--with painting and music1 for instance--for these have learned to select and reproduce those obscurer phases of daily life that are not the less deep-rooted and amazing4 ,they know that all that life has lost1 as regards mere superficial ornament1 has been more than counterbalanced by the depth1 the intimate meaning and the spiritual gravity it has acquired4 ,the true artist no longer chooses ,marius triumphing over the ,cimbrians1 or the assassination of the ,duke of ,guise1 as fit subjects for his art2 for he is well aware that the psychology of victory or murder is but elementary and exceptional1 and that the solemn voice of men and things1 the voice that issues forth so timidly and hesitatingly1 cannot be heard amidst the idle uproar of acts of violence4 ,and therefore will he place on his canvas a house lost in the heart of the country1 an open door at the end of a passage1 a face or hands at rest1 and by these simple images will he add to our consciousness of life1 which is a possession that it is no longer possible to lose4 ,but to the tragic author1 as to the mediocre painter who still lingers over historical pictures1 it is only the violence of the anecdote that appeals1 and in his representation thereof does the entire interest of his work consist4 ,and he imagines1 forsooth1 that we shall delight in witnessing the very same acts that brought joy to the hearts of the barbarians1 with whom murder1 outrage and treachery were matters of daily occurrence4 ,whereas it is far away from bloodshed1 battle-cry and sword-thrust that the lives of most of us flow on1 and men's tears are silent to-day1 and invisible1 and almost spiritual4444 ,indeed1 when ,i go to a theatre1 ,i feel as though ,i were spending a few hours with my ancestors1 who conceived life as something that was primitive1 arid and brutal2 but this conception of theirs scarcely even lingers in my memory1 and surely it is not one that ,i can share4 ,i am shown a deceived husband killing his wife1 a woman poisoning her lover1 a son avenging his father1 a father slaughtering his children1 children putting their father to death1 murdered kings1 ravished virgins1 imprisoned citizens--in a word1 all the sublimity of tradition1 but alas1 how superficial and material6 ,blood1 surface-tears and death6 ,what can ,i learn from creatures who have but one fixed idea1 and who have no time to live1 for that there is a rival1 or a mistress1 whom it behoves them to put to death8 ,i had hoped to be shown some act of life1 traced back to its sources and to its mystery by connecting links1 that my daily occupations afford me neither power nor occasion to study4 ,i had gone thither hoping that the beauty1 the grandeur and the earnestness of my humble day by day existence would1 for one instant1 be revealed to me1 that ,i would be shown the ,i know not what presence1 power or ,god that is ever with me in my room4 ,i was yearning for one of the strange moments of a higher life that flit unperceived through my dreariest hours2 whereas1 almost invariably1 all that ,i beheld was but a man who would tell me1 at wearisome length1 why he was jealous1 why he poisoned1 or why he killed4 ,i admire ,othello1 but he does not appear to me to live the august daily life of a ,hamlet1 who has the time to live1 inasmuch as he does not act4 ,othello is admirably jealous4 ,but is it not perhaps an ancient error to imagine that it is at the moments when this passion1 or others of equal violence1 possesses us1 that we live our truest lives8 ,i have grown to believe that an old man1 seated in his armchair1 waiting patiently1 with his lamp beside him2 giving unconscious ear to all the eternal laws that reign about his house1 interpreting1 without comprehending1 the silence of doors and windows and the quivering voice of the light1 submitting with bent head to the presence of his soul and his destiny--an old man1 who conceives not that all the powers of this world1 like so many heedful servants1 are mingling and keeping vigil in his room1 who suspects not that the very sun itself is supporting in space the little table against which he leans1 or that every star in heaven and every fibre of the soul are directly concerned in the movement of an eyelid that closes1 or a thought that springs to birth--,i have grown to believe that he1 motionless as he is1 does yet live in reality a deeper1 more human and more universal life than the lover who strangles his mistress1 the captain who conquers in battle1 or #8the husband who avenges his honour4' ,i shall be told1 perhaps1 that a motionless life would be invisible1 that therefore animation must be conferred upon it1 and movement1 and that such varied movement as would be acceptable is to be found only in the few passions of which use has hitherto been made4 ,i do not know whether it be true that a static theatre is impossible4 ,indeed1 to me it seems to exist already4 ,most of the tragedies of schylus are tragedies without movement4 ,in both the #8,prometheus' and the #8,suppliants1' events are lacking2 and the entire tragedy of the #8,chphor'--surely the most terrible drama of antiquity--does but cling1 nightmare-like1 around the tomb of ,agamemnon1 till murder darts forth1 as a lightning flash1 from the accumulation of prayers1 ever falling back upon themselves4 ,consider1 from this point of view1 a few more of the finest tragedies of the ancients3 #8,the ,eumenides1' #8,antigone1' #8,electra1' #8dipus at ,colonos4' #8,they have admired1' said ,racine in his preface to #8,berenice1' #8they have admired the 8,ajax0 of ,sophocles1 wherein there is nothing but ,ajax killing himself with regret for the fury into which he fell after the arms of ,achilles were denied him4 ,they have admired 8,philoctetes10 whose entire subject is but the coming of ,ulysses with intent to seize the arrows of ,hercules4 ,even the 8dipus10 though full of recognitions1 contains less subject-matter than the simplest tragedy of our days4' ,what have we here but life that is almost motionless8 ,in most cases1 indeed1 you will find that psychological action--infinitely loftier in itself than mere material action1 and truly1 one might think1 well-nigh indispensable--that psychological action even has been suppressed1 or at least vastly diminished1 in a truly marvellous fashion1 with the result that the interest centres solely and entirely in the individual1 face to face with the universe4 ,here we are no longer with the barbarians1 nor is man now fretting1 himself in the midst of elementary passions1 as though1 forsooth1 these were the only things worthy of note3 he is at rest1 and we have time to observe him4 ,it is no longer a violent1 exceptional moment of life that passes before our eyes--it is life itself4 ,thousands and thousands of laws there are1 mightier and more venerable than those of passion2 but1 in common with all that is endowed with resistless force1 these laws are silent1 and discreet1 and slow-moving2 and hence it is only in the twilight that they can be seen and heard1 in the meditation that comes to us at the tranquil moments of life4 ,when ,ulysses and ,neoptolemus come to ,philoctetes and demand of him the arms of ,hercules1 their action is in itself as simple and ordinary as that of a man of our day who goes into a house to visit an invalid1 of a traveller who knocks at the door of an inn1 or of a mother who1 by the fireside1 awaits the return of her child4 ,sophocles indicates the character of his heroes by means of the lightest and quickest of touches4 ,but it may safely be said that the chief interest of the tragedy does not lie in the struggle we witness between cunning and loyalty1 between love of country1 rancour1 and headstrong pride4 ,there is more beyond3 for it is man's loftier existence that is laid bare to us4 ,the poet adds to ordinary life something1 ,i know not what1 which is the poet's secret3 and there comes to us a sudden revelation of life in its stupendous grandeur1 in its submissiveness to the unknown powers1 in its endless affinities1 in its awe-inspiring misery4 ,let but the chemist pour a few mysterious drops into a vessel that seems to contain the purest water1 and at once masses of crystals will rise to the surface1 thus revealing to us all that lay in abeyance there where nothing was visible before to our incomplete eyes4 ,and even thus is it in #8,philoctetes'2 the primitive psychology of the three leading characters would seem to be merely the sides of the vessel containing the clear water2 and this itself is our ordinary life1 into which the poet is about to let fall the revelation-bearing drops of his genius4444 ,indeed1 it is not in the actions but in the words that are found the beauty and greatness of tragedies that are truly beautiful and great2 and this not solely in the words that accompany and explain the action1 for there must perforce be another dialogue besides the one which is superficially necessary4 ,and indeed the only words that count in the play are those that at first seemed useless1 for it is therein that the essence lies4 ,side by side with the necessary dialogue will you almost always find another dialogue that seems superfluous2 but examine it carefully1 and it will be borne home to you that this is the only one that the soul can listen to profoundly1 for here alone is it the soul that is being addressed4 ,you will see1 too1 that it is the quality and the scope of this unnecessary dialogue that determine the quality and the immeasurable range of the work4 ,certain it is that1 in the ordinary drama1 the indispensable dialogue by no means corresponds to reality2 and it is just those words that are spoken by the side of the rigid1 apparent truth1 that constitute the mysterious beauty of the most beautiful tragedies1 inasmuch as these are words that conform to a deeper truth1 and one that lies incomparably nearer to the invisible soul by which the poem is upheld4 ,one may even affirm that a poem draws the nearer to beauty and loftier truth in the measure that it eliminates words that merely explain the action1 and substitutes for them others that reveal1 not the so-called #8soul-state1' but ,i know not what intangible and unceasing striving of the soul towards its own beauty and truth4 ,and so much the nearer1 also1 does it draw to the true life4 ,to every man does it happen1 in his work-a-day existence1 that some situation of deep seriousness has to be unravelled by means of words4 ,reflect for an instant4 ,at moments such as those--nay1 at the most commonplace of times--is it the thing you say or the reply you receive that has the most value8 ,are not other forces1 other words one cannot hear1 brought into being1 and do not these determine the event8 ,what ,i say often counts for so little2 but my presence1 the attitude of my soul1 my future and my past1 that which will take birth in me and that which is dead1 a secret thought1 the stars that approve1 my destiny1 the thousands of mysteries which surround me and float about yourself--all this it is that speaks to you at that tragic moment1 all this it is that brings to me your answer4 ,there is all this beneath every one of my words1 and each one of yours2 it is this1 above all1 that we see1 it a this1 above all1 that we hear1 ourselves notwithstanding4 ,if you have come1 you1 the #8outraged husband1' the #8deceived lover1' the #8forsaken wife1' intending to kill me1 your arm will not be stayed by my most moving entreaty2 but it may be that there will come towards you1 at that moment1 one of these unexpected forces2 and my soul1 knowing of their vigil near to me1 may whisper a secret word whereby1 haply1 you shall be disarmed4 ,these are the spheres wherein adventures come to issue1 this is the dialogue whose echo should be heard4 ,and it is this echo that one does hear--extremely attenuated and variable1 it is true--in some of the great works mentioned above4 ,but might we not try to draw nearer to the spheres where it is #8in reality' that everything comes to pass8 ,it would seem as though the endeavour were being made4 ,some time ago1 when dealing with #8,the ,master ,builder1' which is the one of ,ibsen's dramas wherein this dialogue of the #8second degree' attains the deepest tragedy1 ,i endeavoured1 unskilfully enough1 to fix its secrets4 ,for indeed they are kindred handmarks traced on the same wall by the same sightless being1 groping for the same light4 #8,what is it1' ,i asked1 #8what is it that1 in the 8,master ,builder10 the poet has added to life1 thereby making it appear so strange1 so profound and so disquieting beneath its trivial surface8' ,the discovery is not easy1 and the old master hides from us more than one secret4 ,it would even seem as though what he has wished to say were but little by the side of what he has been compelled to say4 ,he has freed certain powers of the soul that have never yet been free1 and it may well be that these have held him in thrall4 #8,look you1 ,hilda1' exclaims ,solness1 #8look you6 ,there is sorcery in you1 too1 as there is in me4 ,it is this sorcery that imposes action on the powers of the beyond4 ,and we have to yield to it4 ,whether we want to or not1 we must4' ,there is sorcery in them1 as in us all4 ,hilda and ,solness are1 ,i believe1 the first characters in drama who feel1 for an instant1 that they are living in the atmosphere of the soul2 and the discovery of this essential life that exists in them1 beyond the life of every day1 comes fraught with terror4 ,hilda and ,solness are two souls to whom a flash has revealed their situation in the true life4 ,diverse ways there are by which knowledge of our fellows may come to us4 ,two or three men1 perhaps1 are seen by me almost daily4 ,for a long time it is merely by their gestures that ,i distinguish them1 by their habits1 be these of mind or body1 by the manner in which they feel1 act or think4 ,but1 in the course of every friendship of some duration1 there comes to us a mysterious moment when we seem to perceive the exact relationship of our friend to the unknown that surrounds him1 when we discover the attitude destiny has assumed towards him4 ,and it is from this moment that he truly belongs to us4 ,we have seen1 once and for all1 the treatment held in store for him by events4 ,we know that however such a one may seclude himself in the recesses of his dwelling1 in dread lest his slightest movement stir up that which lies in the great reservoirs of the future1 his forethought will avail him nothing1 and the innumerable events that destiny holds in reserve will discover him wherever he hide1 and will knock one after another at his door4 ,and even so do we know that this other will sally forth in vain in pursuit of adventure4 ,he will ever return empty-handed4 ,no sooner are our eyes thus opened than unerring knowledge would seem to spring to life1 self-created1 within our soul2 and we know with absolute conviction that the event that seems to be impending over the head of a certain man will nevertheless most assuredly not reach him4 ,from this moment a special part of the soul reigns over the friendship of even the most unintelligent1 the obscurest of men4 ,life has become1 as it were1 transposed4 ,and when it happens that we meet one of the men who are thus known to us1 though we do but speak of the snow that is falling or the women that pass by1 something there is in each of us which nods to the other1 which examines and asks its questions without our knowledge1 which interests itself in contingencies and hints at events that it is impossible for us to understand4444 ,thus do ,i conceive it to be with ,hilda and ,solness2 it is thus surely that they regard each other4 ,their conversation resembles nothing that we have ever heard1 inasmuch as the poet has endeavoured to blend in one expression both the inner and the outer dialogue4 ,a new1 indescribable power dominates this somnambulistic drama4 ,all that is said therein at once hides and reveals the sources of an unknown life4 ,and if we are bewildered at times1 let us not forget that our soul often appears to our feeble eyes to be but the maddest of forces1 and that there are in man many regions more fertile1 more profound and more interesting than those of his reason or his intelligence4444 ,,the ,,star ,,the ,,star ,,well might it be said that1 from century to century1 a tragic poet #8has wandered through the labyrinths of destiny with the torch of poesy in his hand4' ,for in this way has each one1 according to the forces of his hour1 fixed the souls of the annals of man1 and it is divine history that has thus been composed4 ,it is in the poets alone that we can follow the countless variations of the great unchanging power2 and to follow them is indeed interesting1 for at the root of the idea that they have formed of this power is to be found1 perhaps1 the purest essence of a nation's soul4 ,it is a power that has never entirely ceased to be1 yet moments there are when it scarcely seems to stir2 and at such moments one feels that life is neither very active nor very profound4 ,once only has it been the object of undivided worship2 then was it1 even for the gods1 an awe-inspiring mystery4 ,and there is a thing that is passing strange--it was the very period when the featureless divinity seemed most terrible and most incomprehensible that was the most beautiful period of mankind1 and the people to whom destiny wore the most formidable aspect were the happiest people of all4 ,it would seem that a secret force must underlie this idea1 or that the idea is itself the manifestation of a force4 ,does man develop in the measure that he recognises the greatness of the unknown that sways him1 or is it the unknown that develops in proportion to the man8 ,to-day the idea of destiny would seem to be again awakening1 and to go forth in search of it were perhaps no unprofitable quest4 ,but where shall it be found8 ,to go in search of destiny--what is this but to seek all the sorrows of man8 ,there is no destiny of joy1 no star that bodes of happiness4 ,the star that is so called is only a star of forbearance4 ,yet is it well that we should sally forth at times in search of our sorrows1 so that we may learn to know them and admire them2 and this even though the great shapeless mass of destiny be not encountered at the end4 ,seeking our sorrows1 we shall be the most effectively seeking ourselves1 for truly may it be said that the value of ourselves is but the value of our melancholy and our disquiet4 ,as we progress1 so do they become deeper1 nobler and more beautiful2 and ,marcus ,aurelius is to be admired above all men1 because1 better than all men1 has he understood how much there is of the soul in the meek resigned smile it must wear1 at the depths of us4 ,thus is it1 too1 with the sorrows of humanity4 ,they follow a road which resembles the road of our own sorrows2 but it is longer1 and surer1 and must lead to fatherlands that the last comers alone shall know4 ,this road also has physical sorrow for its starting-point2 it has only just rounded the fear of the gods1 and to-day it halts by a new abyss1 whose depths the very best of us have not yet sounded4 ,each century holds another sorrow dear1 for each century discerns another destiny4 ,certain it is that we no longer interest ourselves1 as was formerly the case1 in the catastrophes of passion2 and the quality of the sorrow revealed in the most tragic masterpieces of the past is inferior to the quality of the sorrows of to-day4 ,it is only indirectly that these tragedies affect us now2 only by means of that which is brought to bear on the simple accidents of love or hatred they reproduce1 by the reflection and new nobility of sentiment that the pain of living has created within us4 ,there are moments when it would seem as though we were on the threshold of a new pessimism1 mysterious and1 perhaps1 very pure4 ,the most redoubtable sages1 ,schopenhauer1 ,carlyle1 the ,russians1 the ,scandinavians1 and the good optimist ,emerson1 too 7for than a wilful optimist there is nothing more discouraging71 all these have passed our melancholy by1 unexplained4 ,we feel that1 underlying all the reasons they have essayed to give us1 there are many other profounder reasons1 whose discovery has been beyond them4 ,the sadness of man which seemed beautiful even to them1 is still susceptible of infinite ennobling1 until at last a creature of genius shall have uttered the final word of the sorrow that shall1 perhaps1 wholly purify4444 ,in the meanwhile1 we are in the hands of strange powers1 whose intentions we are on the eve of divining4 ,at the time of the great tragic writers of the new era1 at the time of ,shakespeare1 ,racine1 and their successors1 the belief prevailed that all misfortunes came from the various passions of the heart4 ,catastrophes did not hover between two worlds3 they came hence to go thither1 and their point of departure was known4 ,man was always the master4 ,much less was this the case at the time of the ,greeks1 for then did fatality reign on the heights2 but it was inaccessible1 and none dared interrogate it4 ,to-day it is fatality that we challenge1 and this is perhaps the distinguishing note of the new theatre4 ,it is no longer the effects of disaster that arrest our attention2 it is disaster itself1 and we are eager to know its essence and its laws4 ,it was the nature of disaster with which the earliest tragic writers were1 all unconsciously1 preoccupied1 and this it was that1 though they knew it not1 threw a solemn shadow round the hard and violent gestures of external death2 and it is this1 too1 that has become the rallying-point of the most recent dramas1 the centre of light with strange flames gleaming1 about which revolve the souls of women and of men4 ,and a step has been taken towards the mystery so that life's terrors may be looked in the face4 ,it would be interesting to discover from what point of view our latest tragic writers appear to regard the disaster that forms the basis of all dramatic poems4 ,they see it from a nearer point of vision than the ,greeks1 and they have penetrated deeper into the fertile darknesses of its inner circle4 ,the divinity is perhaps the same2 they know nothing of it1 yet do they study it more closely4 ,whence does it come1 whither does it go1 why does it descend upon us8 ,these were problems to which the ,greeks barely gave a thought4 ,is it written within us1 or is it born at the same time as ourselves8 ,does it of its own accord start forward to meet us1 or is it summoned by conniving voices that we cherish at the depths of us8 ,if we could but follow1 from the heights of another world1 the ways of the man over whom a great sorrow is impending6 ,and what man is there that does not laboriously1 though all unconsciously1 himself fashion the sorrow that is to be the pivot of his life6 ,the ,scotch peasants have a word that might be applied to every existence4 ,in their legends they give the name of #8,fey' to the frame of mind of a man who1 notwithstanding all his efforts1 notwithstanding all help and advice1 is forced by some irresistible impulse1 towards an inevitable catastrophe4 ,it is thus that ,james ,i41 the ,james of ,catherine ,douglas1 was #8fey' when he went1 notwithstanding the terrible omens of earth1 heaven and hell1 to spend the ,christmas holidays in the gloomy castle of ,perth1 where his assassin1 the traitor ,robert ,graeme1 lay in wait for him4 ,which of us1 recalling the circumstances of the most decisive misfortune of his life1 but has felt himself similarly possessed8 ,be it well understood that ,i speak here only of active misfortunes1 of those that might have been prevented3 for there are passive misfortunes 7such as the death of a person we adore7 which simply come towards us1 and cannot be influenced by any movement of ours4 ,bethink you of the fatal day of your life4 ,have we not all been forewarned2 and though it may seem to us now that destiny might have been changed by a step we did not take1 a door we did not open1 a hand we did not raise1 which of us but has struggled vainly on the topmost walls of the abyss1 struggled without vigour and without hope1 against a force that was invisible and apparently without power8 ,the breath of air stirred by the door ,i opened1 one evening1 was for ever to extinguish my happiness1 as it would have extinguished a flickering lamp2 and now1 when ,i think of it1 ,i cannot tell myself that ,i did not know4444 ,and yet1 it was nothing important that had taken me to the threshold4 ,i could have gone away1 shrugging my shoulders3 there was no human reason that could force me to knock on the panel4 ,no human reason1 nothing but destiny4444 99 99 99 99 99 ,herein there is still some resemblance to the fatality of dipus1 and yet it is already different4 ,one might say that it is this same fatality seen ab intra4 ,mysterious powers hold sway within us1 and these would seem to be in league with adventures4 ,we all cherish enemies within our soul4 ,they know what they do and what they force us to do1 and when they lead us to the event1 they let fall half-uttered words of warning--too few to stop us on the road--but sufficient to make us regret1 when it is too late1 that we did not listen more attentively to their wavering1 ironical advice4 ,what object can they have1 these powers that seek our destruction as though they were self-existing and did not perish with us1 seeing that it is in us only that they have life8 ,what is it that sets in motion all the confederates of the universe1 who fatten on our blood8 ,the man for whom the hour of misfortune has sounded is caught up by an invisible whirlwind1 and for years back have these powers been combining the innumerable incidents that must bring him to the necessary moment1 to the exact spot where tears lie in wait for him4 ,remember all your efforts1 all your presentiments1 all the unavailing offers of help4 ,remember1 too1 the kindly circumstances that pitied you1 and tried to bar your passage1 but you thrust them aside like so many importunate beggars4 ,and yet were they humble1 timid sisters1 who desired but to save you1 and they went away without saying a word1 too weak and too helpless to struggle against decided things--where decided it is known to ,god alone4444 ,scarcely has the disaster befallen us than we have the strange sensation of having obeyed an eternal law2 and1 in the midst of the greatest sorrow1 there is ,i know not what mysterious comfort that rewards us for our obedience4 ,never do we belong more completely to ourselves than on the morrow of an irreparable catastrophe4 ,it seems1 then1 as though we had found ourselves again1 as though we had won back a part of ourselves that was necessary and unknown4 ,a curious calm steals over us4 ,for days past1 almost without our knowledge1 notwithstanding that we were able to smile at faces and flowers1 the rebel forces of our soul had been waging terrible battle on the borders of the abyss1 and now that we are at the depths of it1 all breathes freely4 ,even thus1 without respite1 do these rebel forces struggle in the soul of every one of us2 and there are times when we may see the shadow of these combats wherein our soul may not intervene1 but we pay no heed1 for to all save the unimportant do we shut our eyes4 ,at a time when my friends are about me it may happen that1 in the midst of talk and shouts of laughter1 there shall suddenly steal over the face of one of them something that is not of this world4 ,a motiveless silence shall instantly prevail1 and for a second's space all shall be unconsciously looking forth with the eyes of the soul4 ,whereupon1 the words and smiles1 that had disappeared like frightened frogs in a lake1 will again mount to the surface1 more violent than before4 ,but the invisible1 here as everywhere1 has gathered its tribute4 ,something has understood that a fight was over1 that a star was rising or falling and that a destiny had just been decided4444 ,perhaps it had been decided before2 and who knows whether the struggle be not a mere simulacrum8 ,if ,i push open to-day the door of the house wherein ,i am to meet the first smiles of a sorrow that shall know no end1 ,i do these things for a longer time than one imagines4 ,of what avail to cultivate an ego on which we have so little influence8 ,it is our star which it behoves us to watch4 ,it is good or bad1 pallid or puissant1 and not by all the might of the sea can it be changed4 ,some there are who may confidently play with their star as one might play with a glass ball4 ,they may throw it and hazard it where they list2 faithfully will it ever return to their hands4 ,they know full well that it cannot be broken4 ,but there are many others who dare not even raise their eyes towards their star1 without it detach itself from the firmament and fall in dust at their feet4444 ,but it is dangerous to speak of the star1 dangerous even to think of it2 for it is often the sign that it is on the point of extinction4444 ,we find ourselves here in the abysses of night1 where we await what has to be4 ,there is no longer question of free will1 which we have left thousands of leagues below3 we are in a region where the will itself is but destiny's ripest fruit4 ,we must not complain2 something is already known to us1 and we have discovered a few of the ways of fortune4 ,we lie in wait like the birdcatcher studying the habits of migratory birds1 and when an event is signalled on the horizon we know full well that it will not remain there alone1 but that its brothers will flock in troops to the same spot4 ,vaguely have we learned that there are certain thoughts1 certain souls1 that attract events2 that some beings there are who divert events in their flight1 as there are others who cause them to congregate from the four quarters of the globe4 ,above all do we know that certain ideas are fraught with extreme danger2 that do we but for an instant deem ourselves in safety1 this alone suffices to draw down the thunderbolt2 we know that happiness creates a void1 into which tears will speedily be hurled4 ,after a time1 too1 we learn something of the preferences of events4 ,it is soon borne home to us that if we take a few steps along the path of life by the side of this one of our brothers1 the ways of fortune will no longer be the same1 whereas1 with this other1 our existence will encounter unvarying events1 coming in regular order4 ,we feel that some beings there are who protect in the unknown1 others who drag us into danger there2 we feel that there are some who awaken the future1 others who lull it into slumber4 ,we suspect1 further1 that things at their birth are but feeble1 that they draw their force from within us1 and that1 in every adventure1 there is a brief moment when our instinct warns us that we are still the lords of destiny4 ,in fine1 there are some who dare assert that we can learn to be happy1 that1 as we become better1 so do we meet men of loftier mind2 that a man who is good attracts1 with irresistible force1 events as good as he1 and that1 in a beautiful soul1 the saddest fortune is transformed into beauty4444 ,indeed1 is it not within the knowledge of us all that goodness beckons to goodness1 and that those for whom we devote ourselves are always the same2 that they are always the same1 those whom we betray8 ,when the same sorrow knocks at two adjoining doors1 at the houses of the just and the unjust1 will its method of action be identical in both8 ,if you are pure1 will not your misfortunes be pure8 ,to have known how to change the past into a few saddened smiles--is this not to master the future8 ,and does it not seem that1 even in the inevitable1 there is something we can keep back8 ,do not great hazards lie dormant that a too sudden movement of ours may awaken on the horizon2 and would this misfortune have befallen you to-day1 but for the thoughts that this morning kept too noisy festival in your soul8 ,is this all that our wisdom has been able to glean in the darkness8 ,who would dare affirm that in these regions there be more substantial truths8 ,in the meanwhile1 let us learn how to smile1 let us learn how to weep1 in the silence of humblest kindliness4 ,slowly there rises above these things the shrouded face of the destiny of to-day4 ,of the veil that formerly covered it1 a minute corner has been lifted1 and there1 where the veil is not1 do we recognise1 to our disquiet1 on the one side1 the power of those who live not yet1 on the other1 the power of the dead4 ,the mystery has again been shifted further from us--that is all4 ,we have enlarged the icy hand of destiny2 and we find that1 in its shadow1 the hands of our ancestors are clasped by the hands of our sons yet unborn4 ,one act there was that we deemed the sanctuary of all our rights1 and love remained the supreme refuge of all those on whom the chains of life weighed too heavily4 ,here1 at least1 in the isolation of this secret temple1 we told ourselves that no one entered with us4 ,here1 for an instant1 we could breathe2 here1 at last1 it was our soul that reigned1 and free was its choice in that which was the centre of liberty itself6 ,but now we are told that it is not for our own sake that we love4 ,we are told that in the very temple of love we do but obey the unvarying orders of an invisible throng4 ,we are told that a thousand centuries divide us from ourselves when we choose the woman we love1 and that the first kiss of the betrothed is but the seal that thousands of hands1 craving for birth1 impress upon the lips of the mother they desire4 ,and1 further1 we know that the dead do not die4 ,we know now that it is not in our churches that they are to be found1 but in the houses1 the habits1 of us all4 ,that there is not a gesture1 a thought1 a sin1 a tear1 an atom of acquired consciousness that is lost in the depths of the earth2 and that at the most insignificant of our acts our ancestors arise1 not in their tombs where they move not1 but in ourselves1 where they always live4444 ,thus are we led by past and future4 ,and the present1 which is the substance of us1 sinks to the bottom of the sea1 like some tiny island at which two irreconcilable oceans have been unceasingly gnawing4 ,heredity1 will1 destiny1 all mingle noisily in our soul2 but1 notwithstanding everything1 far above everything1 it is the silent star that reigns4 ,no matter with what temporary labels we may bedeck the monstrous vases that contain the invisible1 words can tell us scarcely anything of that which should be told4 ,heredity1 nay destiny itself1 what are these but a ray of this star1 a ray that is lost in the mysterious night8 ,and all that is might well be more mysterious still4 #8,we give the name of destiny to all that limits us1' says one of the great sages of our time3 wherefore it behoves us to be grateful to all those who tremblingly grope their way the side of the frontier4 #8,if we are brutal and barbarous1' he goes on1 #8fatality takes a form that is brutal and barbarous4 ,as refinement comes to us1 so do our mishaps become refined4 ,if we rise to spiritual culture1 antagonism takes unto itself a spiritual form4' ,it is perhaps true that even as our soul soars aloft1 so does it purify destiny1 although it is also true that we are menaced by the self-same sorrows that menace the savages4 ,but we have other sorrows of which they have no suspicion2 and the spirit1 as it rises1 does but discover still more1 at every horizon4 #8,we give the name of destiny to all that limits us4' ,let us do our utmost that destiny become not too circumscribed4 ,it is good to enlarge one's sorrows1 since thus does enlargement come to our consciousness1 and there1 there alone do we truly feel that we live4 ,and it is also the only means of fulfilling our supreme duty towards other worlds2 since it is probably on us alone that it is incumbent to augment the consciousness of the earth4 ,,the ,,invisible ,,goodness ,,the ,,invisible ,,goodness ,,it is a thing1 said to me one evening the sage ,i had chanced to meet by the sea shore1 whereon the waves were breaking almost noiselessly--it is a thing that we scarcely notice1 that none seem to take into account1 and yet do ,i conceive it to be one of the forces that safeguard mankind4 ,in a thousand diverse ways do the gods from whom we spring reveal themselves within us1 but it may well be that this unnoticed secret goodness1 to which sufficiently direct allusion has never yet been made1 is the purest token of their eternal life4 ,whence it comes we know not4 ,it is there in its simplicity1 smiling on the threshold of our soul2 and those in whom its smiles lie deepest1 or shine forth most frequently1 may make us suffer day and night and they will1 yet shall it be beyond our power to cease to love them4444 ,it is not of this world1 and still are there few agitations of ours in which it takes not part4 ,it cares not to reveal itself even in look or tear4 ,nay1 it seeks concealment1 for reasons one cannot divine4 ,it is as though it were afraid to make use of its power4 ,it knows that its most involuntary movement will cause immortal things to spring to life about it2 and we are miserly with immortal things4 ,why are we so fearful lest we exhaust the heaven within us8 ,we dare not act upon the whisper of the ,god who inspires us4 ,we are afraid of everything that cannot be explained by word or gesture3 and we shut our eyes to all that we do1 ourselves notwithstanding1 in the empire where explanations are vain6 ,whence comes the timidity of the divine in man8 ,for truly might it be said that the nearer a movement of our soul approaches the divine1 so much the more scrupulously do we conceal it from the eyes of our brethren4 ,can it be that man is nothing but a frightened god8 ,or has the command been laid upon us that the superior powers must not be betrayed8 ,upon all that does not form part of this too visible world there rests the tender meekness of the little ailing girl1 for whom her mother will not send when strangers come to the house4 ,and therefore it is that this secret goodness of ours has never yet passed through the silent portals of our soul4 ,it lives within us like a prisoner forbidden to approach the barred window of her cell4 ,but indeed1 what matter though it do not approach8 ,enough that it be there4 ,hide as it may1 let it but raise its head1 move a link of its chain or open its hand1 and the prison is illumined1 the pressure of radiance from within bursts open the iron barrier1 and then1 suddenly1 there yawns a gulf between words and beings1 a gulf peopled with agitated angels3 silence falls over all3 the eyes turn away for a moment and two souls embrace tearfully on the threshold4444 ,it is not a thing that comes from this earth of ours1 and all descriptions can be of no avail4 ,they who would understand must have1 in themselves too1 the same point of sensibility4 ,if you have never in your life felt the power of your invisible goodness1 go no further2 it would be useless4 ,but are there really any who have not felt this power1 and have the worst of us never been invisibly good8 ,i know not3 of so many in this world does the aim seem to be the discouragement of the divine in their soul4 ,and yet there needs but one instant of respite for the divine to spring up again1 and even the wickedest are not incessantly on their guard2 and hence doubtless has it arisen that so many of the wicked are good1 unseen of all1 whereas divers saints and sages are not invisibly good4444 ,more than once have ,i been the cause of suffering1 he went on1 even as each being is the cause of suffering about him4 ,i have caused suffering because we are in a world where all is held together by invisible threads1 in a world where none are alone1 and where the gentlest gesture of love or kindliness may so often wound the innocence by our side6--,i have caused suffering1 too1 because there are times when the best and tenderest are impelled to seek ,i know not what part of themselves in the grief of others4 ,for1 indeed1 there are seeds that only spring up in our soul beneath the rain of tears shed because of us1 and none the less do these seeds produce good flowers and salutary fruit4 ,what would you8 ,it is no law of our making1 and ,i know not whether ,i would dare to love the man who had made no one weep4 ,frequently1 indeed1 will the greatest suffering be caused by those whose love is greatest1 for a strange timid1 tender cruelty is most often the anxious sister of love4 ,on all sides does love search for the proofs of love1 and the first proofs--who is not prone to discover them in the tears of the beloved8 ,even death could not suffice to reassure the lover who dared to give ear to the unreasoning claims of love2 for to the intimate cruelty of love1 the instant of death seems too brief2 over beyond death there is yet room for a sea of doubts1 and even in those who die together may disquiet still linger as they die4 ,long1 slowly falling tears are needed here4 ,grief is love's first food1 and every love that has not been fed on a little pure suffering must die like the babe that one had tried to nourish on the nourishment of a man4 ,will the love inspired by the woman who always brought the smile to your lips be quite the same as the love you feel for her who at times called forth your tears8 ,alas6 needs must love weep1 and often indeed is it at the very moment when the sobs burst forth that love's chains are forged and tempered for life4444 ,thus1 he continued1 ,i have caused suffering because ,i loved1 and also have ,i caused suffering because ,i did not love--but how great was the difference in the two cases6 ,in the one the slowly dropping tears of well-tried love seemed already to know1 at the depths of them1 that they were bedewing all that was ineffable in our united souls2 in the other the poor tears knew that they were falling in solitude on a desert4 ,but it is at those very moments when the soul is all ear--or1 haply1 all soul--that ,i have recognised the might of an invisible goodness that could offer to the wretched tears of an expiring love the divine illusions of a love on the eve of birth4 ,has there never come to you one of those sorrowful evenings when dejection lay heavy upon your unsmiling kisses1 and it at length dawned upon your soul that it had been mistaken8 ,with direst difficulty did your words ring forth in the cold air of the separation that was to be final2 you were about to part for ever1 and your almost lifeless hands were outstretched for the farewell of a departure that should know no return1 when suddenly your soul made an imperceptible movement within itself4 ,on that instant did the soul by the side of you awake on the summits of its being2 something sprang to life in regions loftier far than the love of jaded lovers2 and for all that the bodies might shrink asunder1 henceforth would the souls never forget that for an instant they had beheld each other high above mountains they had never seen1 and that for a second's space they had been good with a goodness they had never known until that day4444 ,what can this be1 this mysterious movement that ,i speak of here in connection with love only1 but which may well take place in the smallest events of life8 ,is it ,i know not what sacrifice or inner embrace1 is it the profoundest desire to be soul for a soul1 or the consciousness1 ever quickening within us1 of the presence of a life that is invisible1 but equal to our own8 ,is it all that is admirable and sorrowful in the mere act of living that1 at such moments1 floods our being--is it the aspect of life1 one and indivisible8 ,i know not2 but in truth it is then that we feel that there lurks1 somewhere1 an unknown force2 it is then that we feel that we are the treasures of an unknown ,god who loves all1 that not a gesture of this ,god may pass unperceived1 and that we are at length in the region of things that do not betray themselves4444 ,certain it is that1 from the day of our birth to the day of our death1 we never emerge from this clearly defined region1 but wander in ,god like helpless sleepwalkers1 or like the blind who despairingly seek the very temple in which they do indeed befind themselves4 ,we are there in life1 man against man1 soul against soul1 and day and night are spent under arms4 ,we never see each other1 we never touch each other4 ,we see nothing but bucklers and helmets1 we touch nothing but iron and brass4 ,but let a tiny circumstance1 come from the simpleness of the sky1 for one instant only cause the weapons to fall1 are there not always tears beneath the helmet1 childlike smiles behind the buckler1 and is not another verity revealed8 ,he thought for a moment1 then went on1 more sadly3 ,a woman--as ,i believe ,i told you just now--a woman to whom ,i had caused suffering against my will--for the most careful of us scatter suffering around them without their knowledge--a woman to whom ,i had caused suffering against my will1 revealed to me one evening the sovereign power of this invisible good4 ,to be good we must needs have suffered2 but perhaps it is necessary to have caused suffering before we can become better4 ,this was brought home to me that evening4 ,i felt that ,i had arrived1 alone1 at that sad zone of kisses when it seems to us that we are visiting the hovels of the poor1 while she1 who had lingered on the road1 was still smiling in the palace of the first days4 ,love1 as men understand it1 was dying between us like a child stricken with a disease come one knows not whence1 a disease that has no pity4 ,we said nothing4 ,it would be impossible for me to recall what my thoughts were at that earnest moment4 ,they were doubtless of no significance4 ,i was probably thinking of the last face ,i had seen1 of the quivering gleam of a lantern at a deserted street corner2 and1 nevertheless1 everything took place in a light a thousand times purer1 a thousand times higher1 than had there intervened all the forces of pity and love which ,i command in my thoughts and my heart4 ,we parted1 and not a word was spoken1 but at one and the same moment had we understood our inexpressible thought4 ,we know now that another love had sprung to life1 a love that demands not the words1 the little attentions and smiles of ordinary love4 ,we have never met again4 ,perhaps centuries will elapse before we ever do meet again4 #8,much is to learn1 much to forget1 ,through worlds ,i shall traverse not a few' before we shall again find ourselves in the same movement of the soul as on that evening3 but we can well afford to wait4444 ,and thus1 ever since that day1 have ,i greeted1 in all places1 even in the very bitterest of moments1 the beneficent presence of this marvellous power4 ,he who has but once clearly seen it1 shall never again find it possible to turn away from its face4 ,you will often behold it smiling in the last retreat of hatred1 in the depths of the cruellest tears4 ,and yet does it not reveal itself to the eyes of the body4 ,its nature changes from the moment that it manifests itself by means of an exterior act2 and we are no longer in the truth according to the soul1 but in a kind of falsehood as conceived by man4 ,goodness and love that are self-conscious have no influence on the soul1 for they have departed from the kingdoms where they have their dwelling2 but1 do they only remain blind1 they can soften ,destiny itself4 ,i have known more than one man who performed every act of kindness and mercy without touching a single soul2 and ,i have known others1 who seemed to live in falsehood and injustice1 yet were no souls driven from them nor did any for an instant even believe that these men were not good4 ,nay1 more1 even those who do not know you1 who are merely told of your acts of goodness and deeds of love--if you be not good according to the invisible goodness1 these1 even1 will feel that something is lacking1 and they will never be touched in the depths of their being4 ,one might almost believe that there exists1 somewhere1 a place where all is weighed in the presence of the spirits1 or perhaps1 out yonder1 the other side of the night1 a reservoir of certitudes whither the silent herd of souls flock every morning to slake their thirst4 ,perhaps we do not yet know what the word #8to love' means4 ,there are within us lives in which we love unconsciously4 ,to love thus means more than to have pity1 to make inner sacrifices1 to be anxious to help and give happiness2 it is a thing that lies a thousand fathoms deeper1 where our softest1 swiftest1 strongest words cannot reach it4 ,at moments we might believe it to be a recollection1 furtive but excessively keen1 of the great primitive unity4 ,there is in this love a force that nothing can resist4 ,which of us--an' he question himself the side of the light1 from which our gaze is habitually averted--which of us but will find in himself the recollection of certain strange workings of this force8 ,which of us1 when by the side of the most ordinary person perhaps1 but has suddenly become conscious of the advent of something that none had summoned8 ,was it the soul1 or perhaps life1 that had turned within itself like a sleeper on the point of awakening8 ,i know not2 nor did you know1 and no one spoke of it2 but you did not separate from each other as though nothing had happened4 ,to love thus is to love according to the soul2 and there is no soul that does not respond to this love4 ,for the soul of man is a guest that has gone hungry these centuries back1 and never has it to be summoned twice to the nuptial feast4 ,the souls of all our brethren are ever hovering about us1 craving for a caress1 and only waiting for the signal4 ,but how many beings there are who all their life long have not dared make such a signal6 ,it is the disaster of our entire existence that we live thus away from our soul1 and stand in such dread of its slightest movement4 ,did we but allow it to smile frankly in its silence and its radiance1 we should be already living an eternal life4 ,we have only to think for an instant how much it succeeds in accomplishing during those rare moments when we knock off its chains--for it is our custom to enchain it as though it were distraught--what it does in love1 for instance1 for there we do permit it at times to approach the lattices of external life4 ,and would it not be in accordance with the primal truth if all men were to feel that they were face to face with each other1 even as the woman feels with the man she loves8 ,this invisible and divine goodness1 of which ,i only speak here because of its being one of the surest and nearest signs of the unceasing activity of our soul1 this invisible and divine goodness ennobles1 in decisive fashion1 all that it has unconsciously touched4 ,let him who has a grievance against his fellow1 descend into himself and seek out whether he never has been good in the presence of that fellow4 ,for myself1 ,i have never met any one by whose side ,i have felt my invisible goodness bestir itself1 without he has become1 at that very instant1 better than myself4 ,be good at the depths of you1 and you will discover that those who surround you will be good even to the same depths4 ,nothing responds more infallibly to the secret cry of goodness than the secret cry of goodness that is near4 ,while you are actively good in the invisible1 all those who approach you will unconsciously do things that they could not do by the side of any other man4 ,therein lies a force that has no name2 a spiritual rivalry that knows no resistance4 ,it is as though this were the actual place where is the sensitive spot of our soul2 for there are souls that seem to have forgotten their existence and to have renounced everything that enables the being to rise2 but1 once touched here1 they all draw themselves erect2 and in the divine plains of the secret goodness1 the most humble of souls cannot endure defeat4 ,and yet it is possible that nothing is changing in the life one sees2 but is it only that which matters1 and is our existence indeed confined to actions we can take in our hand like stones on the high road8 ,if you ask yourself1 as we are told we should ask every evening1 #8,what of immortal have ,i done to-day8' ,is it always on the material side that we can count1 weigh and measure unerringly2 is it there that you must begin your search8 ,it is possible for you to cause extraordinary tears to flow2 it is possible that you may fill a heart with unheard of certitudes1 and give eternal life unto a soul1 and no one shall know of it1 nor shall you even know yourself4 ,it may be that nothing is changing2 it may be that were it put to the test all would crumble1 and that this goodness we speak of would yield to the smallest fear4 ,it matters not4 ,something divine has happened2 and somewhere must our ,god have smiled4 ,may it not be the supreme aim of life thus to bring to birth the inexplicable within ourselves2 and do we know how much we add to ourselves when we awake something of the incomprehensible that slumbers in every corner8 ,here you have awakened love which will not fall asleep again4 ,the soul that your soul has regarded1 that has wept with you the holy tears of the solemn joy that none may behold1 will bear you no resentment1 not even in the midst of torture4 ,it will not even feel the need of forgiving4 ,so convinced is it of one knows not what1 that nothing can henceforth dim or efface the smile that it wears within2 for nothing can ever separate two souls which1 for an instant1 #8have been good together4' ,,the ,,deeper ,,life ,,the ,,deeper ,,life ,,it is well that men should be reminded that the very humblest of them has the power to #8fashion1 after a divine model that he chooses not1 a great moral personality1 composed in equal parts of himself and the ideal2 and that if anything lives in fullest reality1 of a surety it is that4' ,each man has to seek out his own special aptitude for a higher life in the midst of the humble and inevitable reality of daily existence4 ,than this there can be no nobler aim in life4 ,it is only by the communications we have with the infinite that we are to be distinguished from each other4 ,if the hero is greater than the wretch who marches by his side1 it is because at a certain moment of his existence there has come to him a fuller consciousness of one of these communications4 ,if it is true that creation does not stop at man and that we are surrounded by invisible beings who are superior to us1 their superiority can only consist in that they have1 with the infinite1 communications whose nature we cannot even imagine4 ,it lies within our power to increase these communications4 ,in the life of every man has there been a day when the heavens opened of their own accord1 and it is almost always from that very instant that dates his true spiritual personality4 ,it is doubtless at that instant that are formed the invisible1 eternal features that we reveal1 though we know it not1 to angels and to souls4 ,but with most men it is chance alone that has caused the heavens to open2 and they have not chosen the face whereby the angels know them in the infinite1 nor have they understood how to ennoble and purify its features--which do indeed but owe their being to an accidental joy or sadness1 an accidental thought or fear4 ,our veritable birth dates from the day when1 for the first time1 we feel at the deepest of us that there is something grave and unexpected in life4 ,some there are who realise suddenly that they are not alone under the sky4 ,to others will it be brusquely revealed1 while shedding a tear or giving a kiss1 that #8the source of all that is good and holy from the universe up to ,god is hidden behind a night1 full of too distant stars'2 a third will see a divine hand stretched forth between his joy and his misfortune2 and yet another will have understood that it is the dead who are in the right4 ,one will have had pity1 another will have admired or been afraid4 ,often does it need almost nothing1 a word1 a gesture1 a little thing that is not even a thought4 #8,before1 ,i loved thee as a brother1 ,john1' says one of ,shakespeare's heroes1 admiring the other's action1 #8but now ,i do respect thee as my soul4' ,on that day it is probable that a being will have come into the world4 ,we can be born thus more than once2 and each birth brings us a little nearer to our ,god4 ,but most of us are content to wait till an event1 charged with almost irresistible radiance1 intrudes itself violently upon our darkness1 and enlightens us1 in our despite4 ,we await ,i know not what happy coincidence1 when it may so come about that the eyes of our soul shall be open at the very moment that something extraordinary takes place4 ,but in everything that happens is there light2 and the greatness of the greatest of men has but consisted in that they had trained their eyes to be open to every ray of this light4 ,is it indeed essential that your mother should breathe her last in your arms1 that your children should perish in a shipwreck1 and that you yourself should pass by the side of death1 for you at length to understand that you have your being in an incomprehensible world where you shall be for ever1 where an unseen ,god1 who is eternally alone1 dwells with ,his creatures8 ,must your betrothed die in a fire1 or disappear before your eyes in the green depths of the ocean1 for it to be revealed to you for an instant that the last limits of the kingdom of love transcend perhaps the scarcely visible flames of ,mira1 ,altair or ,berenice's tresses8 ,had your eyes been open1 might you not have beheld in a kiss that which to-day you perceive in a catastrophe8 ,are the divine recollections that slumber in our souls to be awakened only by the lance-thrusts of grief8 ,the sage needs no such violent arousing4 ,he sees a tear1 a maiden's gesture1 a drop of water that falls2 he listens to a passing thought1 presses a brother's hand1 approaches a lip1 with open eyes and open soul4 ,he never ceases to behold that of which you have caught but a passing glimpse2 and a smile will readily tell him all that it needed a tempest1 or even the hand of death1 to reveal to you4 ,for what are in reality the things we call #8,wisdom1' #8,virtue1' #8,heroism1' #8sublime hours1' and #8great moments of life1' but the moments when we have more or less issued forth from ourselves1 and have been able to halt1 be it only for an instant1 on the step of one of the eternal gates whence we see that the faintest cry1 the most colourless thought1 and most nerveless gestures do not drop into nothingness2 or that if they do indeed thus drop1 the fall itself is so immense that it suffices to give an august character to our life8 ,why wait till the firmament shall open amid the roar of the thunderbolt8 ,we must watch for the happy moments when it opens in silence2 and it is ever thus opening4 ,you seek ,god in your life1 and you say ,god appears not4 ,but in what life are there not thousands of hours akin to the hour in that drama where all are waiting for the divine intervention1 and none perceive it1 till an invisible thought that has flitted across the consciousness of a dying man suddenly reveals itself1 and an old man cries out1 sobbing for joy and terror1 #8,but ,god1 there is ,god6'4444 ,must we always be warned1 and can we only fall on our knees when some one is there to tell us that ,god is passing by8 ,if you have loved profoundly you have needed no one to tell you that your soul was a thing as great in itself as the world2 that the stars1 the flowers1 the waves of night and sea were not solitary2 that it was on the threshold of appearances that everything began1 but nothing ended1 and that the very lips you kissed belonged to a creature who was loftier1 much purer1 and much more beautiful than the one whom your arms enfolded4 ,you have beheld that which in life cannot be seen without ecstasy4 ,but cannot we live as though we always loved8 ,it was this that the saints and heroes did2 this and nothing more4 ,ah6 truly too much of our life is spent in waiting1 like the blind men in the legend who had travelled far so that they might hear their ,god4 ,they were seated on the steps1 and when asked what they were doing in the courtyard of the sanctuary1 #8,we are waiting1' they replied1 shaking their heads1 #8and ,god has not yet said a single word4' ,but they had not seen that the brass doors of the temple were closed1 and they knew not that the edifice was resounding with the voice of their ,god4 ,never for an instant does ,god cease to speak2 but no one thinks of opening the doors4 ,and yet1 with a little watchfulness1 it were not difficult to hear the word that ,god must speak concerning our every act4 ,we all live in the sublime4 ,where else can we live8 ,that is the only place of life4 ,and if aught be lacking1 it is not the chance of living in heaven1 rather is it watchfulness and meditation1 also perhaps a little ecstasy of soul4 ,though you have but a little room1 do you fancy that ,god is not there1 too1 and that it is impossible to live therein a life that shall be somewhat lofty8 ,if you complain of being alone1 of the absence of events1 of loving no one and being unloved1 do you think that the words are true8 ,do you imagine that one can possibly be alone1 that love can be a thing one knows1 a thing one sees2 that events can be weighed like the gold and silver of ransom8 ,cannot a living thought--proud or humble1 it matters not2 so it come but from your soul1 it is great for you--cannot a lofty desire1 or simply a moment of solemn watchfulness to life1 enter a little room8 ,and if you love not1 or are unloved1 and can yet see with some depth of insight that thousands of things are beautiful1 that the soul is great and life almost unspeakably earnest1 is that not as beautiful as though you loved or were loved8 ,and if the sky itself is hidden from you1 #8does not the great starry sky1' asks the poet1 #8spread over our soul1 in spite of all1 under guise of death8' 444 ,all that happens to us is divinely great1 and we are always in the centre of a great world4 ,but we must accustom ourselves to live like an angel who has just sprung to life1 like a woman who loves1 or a man on the point of death4 ,if you knew that you were going to die to-night1 or merely that you would have to go away and never return1 would you1 looking upon men and things for the last time1 see them in the same light that you have hitherto seen them8 ,would you not love as you never yet have loved8 ,is it the virtue or evil of the appearances around you that would be magnified8 ,would it be given you to behold the beauty or the ugliness of the soul8 ,would not everything1 down to actual evil and suffering1 be transformed into love1 overflowing with gentlest tears8 ,does not1 to quote the sage1 each opportunity for pardon rob departure or death of something of its bitterness8 ,and yet1 in the radiance or sorrow or death1 is it towards truth or error that one has taken the last steps one is allowed to take8 ,is it the living or the dying who can see and are in the right8 ,ah6 thrice happy they who have thought1 spoken1 and acted so as to receive the approval of those who are about to die1 or to whom a great sorrow has given clearer insight6 ,the sage1 to whom none would hearken in life1 can meet with no sweeter reward4 ,if you have lived in obscure beauty1 you have no cause for disquiet4 ,at the end there must always sound within the heart of man an hour of supreme justice2 and misfortune opens eyes that were never open before4 ,who knows whether at this very moment your shadow be not passing over the soul of a dying man and be not recognised by him as the shadow of one who already knew the truth8 ,may it not be at the bedside of the last agony that is woven the veritable and most precious crown of sage and hero1 and of all who have known how to live earnestly amid the sorrows1 lofty1 pure1 and discreet1 of life according to the soul8 #8,death1' says ,lavater1 #8does not only beautify our inanimate form2 nay1 the mere thought of death gives a more beautiful form to life itself4' ,and even so does every thought1 that is infinite as death1 beautify our life4 ,but we must not deceive ourselves4 ,to every man there come noble thoughts1 that pass across his heart like great white birds4 ,alas6 they do not count2 they are strangers whom we are surprised to see1 whom we dismiss with importunate gesture4 ,their time is too short to touch our life4 ,our soul will not become earnest and deep-searching1 as is the soul of the angels1 for that we have1 for one fleeting instant1 beheld the universe in the shadow of death or eternity1 in the radiance of joy or the flames of beauty and love4 ,we have all known moments such as these1 moments that have but left worthless ashes behind4 ,these things must be habitual with us2 it is of no avail that they should come by chance4 ,we must learn to live in a beauty1 an earnestness1 that shall have become part of ourselves4 ,in life1 there is no creature so degraded but knows full well which is the noble and beautiful thing that he should do2 but this noble and beautiful thing is not strong enough within him4 ,it is this invisible and abstract strength that it must be our endeavour to increase1 first of all4 ,and this strength increases only in those who have acquired the habit of resting1 more frequently than others1 upon the summits where life absorbs the soul1 upon the heights whence we see that every act and every thought are infallibly bound up with something great and immortal4 ,look upon men and things with the inner eye1 with its form and desire1 never forgetting that the shadow they throw as they pass by1 upon hillock or wall1 is but the fleeting image of a mightier shadow1 which1 like the wing of an imperishable swan1 floats over every soul that draws near to their soul4 ,do not believe that thoughts such as these can be mere ornaments1 and without influence upon the lives of those who admit them4 ,it is far more important that one's life should be perceived than that it should be transformed2 for no sooner has it been perceived1 than it transforms itself of its own accord4 ,these thoughts of which ,i speak make up the secret treasure of heroism2 and1 on the day that life compels us to disclose this treasure1 we are startled to find therein no forces other than those by which we are impelled towards perfect beauty4 ,then it is no longer necessary that a great king should die for us to remember that #8the world does not end at the house-doors1' and not an evening passes but the smallest thing suffices to ennoble the soul4 ,yet it is not by telling yourself that ,god is great and that you move in ,his radiance1 that you will be able to live in the beauty and fertile depths where the heroes dwelt4 ,you may perhaps remind yourself1 day and night1 that the hands of all the invisible powers are waving over your head like a tent with countless folds1 and yet shall the least gesture of these hands be imperceptible to you4 ,it behoves you to be keenly vigilant2 and better had you watch in the market-place than slumber in the temple4 ,beauty and grandeur are everywhere2 for it needs but an unexpected incident to reveal them to us4 ,this is known to nearly all men2 but know it though they may1 it is only when fortune or death lashes them that they grope around the wall of life in search of the crevices through which ,god may be seen4 ,they know full well that there are eternal crevices even in the humble walls of a hovel1 and that the smallest window cannot take away a line or a star from the immensity of heavenly space4 ,but it is not enough to possess a truth2 it is essential that the truth should possess us4 ,and yet are we in a world where the smallest events assume1 spontaneously1 a beauty that ever becomes purer and loftier4 ,there is nothing that coalesces more readily than earth and sky2 if your eyes have rested upon the stars1 before enfolding in your arms the woman you love1 your embrace will not be the same as though you had merely looked at the walls of your room4 ,be sure that the day you lingered to follow a ray of light through a crevice in the door of life1 you did something as great as though you had bandaged the wounds of your enemy1 for at that moment did you no longer have any enemies4 ,our lives must be spent seeking our ,god1 for ,god hides2 but ,his artifices1 once they be known1 seem so simple and smiling6 ,from that moment1 the merest nothing reveals ,his presence1 and the greatness of our life depends on so little6 ,even thus may the verse of a poet1 in the midst of the humble incidents of ordinary days1 suddenly reveal to us something that is stupendous4 ,no solemn word has been pronounced1 and we feel that nothing has been called forth2 and yet1 why has an ineffable face beckoned to us from behind an old man's tears1 why does a vast night1 starred with angels1 extend over the smile of a child1 and why1 around a yes or no1 murmured by a soul that sings and busies itself with other matters1 do we suddenly hold our breath for an instant and say to ourselves1 #8,here is the house of ,god1 and this one of the approaches to heaven'8 ,it is because these poets have been more heedful than we to the #8never-ending shadow4' 444 ,that is the essence of supreme poetry1 that1 and that alone1 and its sole aim is to keep open #8the great road that leads from the seen to the unseen4' ,but that is life's supreme aim1 too1 and it is easier far to attain in life than in the noblest of poems1 for these have had to abandon the two great wings of silence4 ,not a single day is trivial4 ,it is essential that this idea should sink into our life and take root therein4 ,there is no question of being sad4 ,small joys1 faint smiles1 and great tears1 all these fill up the same nook in time and space4 ,you can play in life as innocently #8as a child about a death-bed1' and it is not the tears that are indispensable4 ,smiles as well as tears open the gates of the other world4 ,go or come1 you will find all you need in the darkness1 but never forget that you are close to the gate4 99 99 99 99 99 ,after this lengthy digression1 ,i return to my starting-point1 which was that #8it is well that men should be reminded that the very humblest of them has the power to fashion1 after a divine model that he chooses not1 a great moral personality1 composed in equal parts of himself and the ideal4' ,it is only in the depths of life that this #8great moral personality' can be carved out2 and only by means of incessant #8revelations of the divine' can we add to the stores of the ideal we require4 ,to every man is it given to attain in spirit to the heights of virtuous life1 and to know at all times what his conduct should be1 would he act like a hero or a saint4 ,but more than this is needed4 ,it is essential that the spiritual atmosphere about us should be transformed to such a degree that it ends by resembling the atmosphere of ,swedenborg's beautiful countries of the age of gold1 wherein the air permitted not a falsehood to leave the lips4 ,an instant comes then1 when the smallest ill that we fain would commit falls at our feet like a leaden ball upon a disc of bronze2 when everything changes1 though we know it not1 into beauty1 love1 or truth4 ,but this atmosphere enwraps those only who have been heedful to ventilate their life sufficiently by at times flinging open the gates of the other world4 ,it is when we are near to those gates that we see2 it is when we are near to those gates that we love4 ,for to love one's neighbour does not mean only to give oneself to him1 to serve1 help1 and sustain others4 ,we may possibly be neither good1 nor noble1 nor beautiful1 even in the midst of the greatest sacrifice2 and the sister of charity who dies by the bedside of a typhoid patient may perchance have a mean1 rancorous1 miserable soul4 ,to love one's neighbour in the immovable depths means to love in others that which is eternal2 for one's neighbour1 in the truest sense of the term1 is that which approaches the nearest to ,god2 in other words1 all that is best and purest in man2 and it is only by ever lingering near the gates ,i spoke of1 that you can discover the divine in the soul4 ,then will you be able to say with the great ,jean ,paul3 #8,when ,i desire to love most tenderly one who is dear to me1 and wish to forgive him everything1 ,i have but to look at him for a few moments in silence4' ,to learn to love1 one must first learn to see4 #8,i lived for twenty years by my sister's side1' said a friend to me1 one day1 #8and ,i saw her for the first time at the moment of our mother's death4' ,here1 too1 it had been necessary that death should violently fling open an eternal gate1 so that two souls might behold each other in a ray of the primeval light4 ,is there one amongst us who has not near to him sisters he has never seen8 ,happily1 even in those whose vision is most limited1 there is always something that acts in silence as though they had seen4 ,it is possible1 perhaps1 that to be good is only to be in a little light what all are in darkness4 ,therefore1 doubtless1 is it well that we should endeavour to raise our life1 and should strive towards summits where ill-doing becomes impossible4 ,and therefore1 too1 is it well to accustom the eye to behold events and men in a divine atmosphere4 ,but even that is not indispensable2 and how small must the difference seem to the eyes of a ,god6 ,we are in a world where truth reigns at the bottom of things1 and where it is not truth but falsehood that needs to be explained4 ,if the happiness of your brother sadden you1 do not despise yourself2 you will not have to travel far along the road before you will come across something in yourself that will not be saddened4 ,and even though you do not travel the road1 it matters little3 something there was that was not sad4444 ,those who think of nothing have the same truth as those who think of ,god2 the truth is a little further from the threshold1 that is all4 #8,even in the life that is most ordinary1' says ,renan1 #8the part that is done for ,god is enormous4 ,the lowest of men would rather be just than unjust3 we all worship1 we all pray1 numbers of times every day1 without knowing it4' ,and we are surprised when chance suddenly reveals to us the importance of this divine part4 ,there are about us thousands and thousands of poor creatures who have nothing of beauty in their lives3 they come1 they go1 in obscurity1 and we believe that all is dead within them2 and no one pays any heed4 ,and then one day a simple word1 an unexpected silence1 a little tear that springs from the source of beauty itself1 tell us that they have found the means of raising aloft1 in the shadow of their soul1 an ideal a thousand times more beautiful than the most beautiful things their ears have ever heard1 or their eyes ever seen4 ,oh1 noble and pallid ideals of silence and shadow6 ,it is you1 above all1 who call forth the smile of the angels1 it is you1 above all1 who soar direct to ,god6 ,in what myriads of hovels1 in what dens of misery1 in what prisons1 perhaps1 are you not being cherished at this moment1 cherished with the purest blood and tears of an unhappy soul that has never smiled2 even as the bees1 at the time when all the flowers are dead about them1 still offer to her who is to be their queen a honey a thousand times more precious than the honey they give to their little sisters of daily life4444 ,which of us has not met1 more than once1 along the paths of life1 a forsaken soul that has yet not lost the courage to cherish1 in the darkness1 a thought diviner and purer than all those that so many others had the power to choose in the light8 ,here1 too1 it is simplicity that is ,god's favourite slave2 and it is enough1 perhaps1 that a few sages should know what has to be done1 for the rest of us to act as though we knew too4444 ,,the ,,inner ,,beauty ,,the ,,inner ,,beauty ,,nothing in the whole world is so athirst for beauty as the soul1 nor is there anything to which beauty clings so readily4 ,there is nothing in the world capable of such spontaneous up-lifting1 of such speedy ennoblement2 nothing that offers more scrupulous obedience to the pure and noble commands it receives4 ,there is nothing in the world that yields deeper submission to the empire of a thought that is loftier than other thoughts4 ,and on this earth of ours there are but few souls that can withstand the dominion of the soul that has suffered itself to become beautiful4 ,in all truth might it be said that beauty is the unique aliment of our soul1 for in all places does it search for beauty1 and it perishes not of hunger even in the most degraded of lives4 ,for indeed nothing of beauty can pass by and be altogether unperceived4 ,perhaps does it never pass by save only in our unconsciousness1 but its action is no less puissant in gloom of night than by light of day2 the joy it procures may be less tangible1 but other difference there is none4 ,look at the most ordinary of men1 at a time when a little beauty has contrived to steal into their darkness4 ,they have come together1 it matters not where1 and for no special reason2 but no sooner are they assembled than their very first thought would seem to be to close the great doors of life4 ,yet has each one of them1 when alone1 more than once lived in accord with his soul4 ,he has loved perhaps1 of a surety he has suffered4 ,inevitably must he1 too1 have heard the #8sounds that come from the distant country of ,splendour and ,terror'2 and many an evening has he bowed down in silence before laws that are deeper than the sea4 ,and yet when these men are assembled it is with the basest of things that they love to debauch themselves4 ,they have a strange indescribable fear of beauty1 and as their number increases so does this fear become greater1 resembling indeed their dread of silence or of a verity that is too pure4 ,and so true is this that1 were one of them to have done something heroic in the course of the day1 he would ascribe wretched motives to his conduct1 thereby endeavouring to find excuses for it1 and these motives would lie readily to his hand in that lower region where he and his fellows were assembled4 ,and yet listen3 a proud and lofty word has been spoken1 a word that has in a measure undammed the springs of life4 ,for one instant has a soul dared to reveal itself1 even such as it is in love and sorrow1 such as it is in face of death and in the solitude that dwells around the stars of night4 ,disquiet prevails1 on some faces there is astonishment1 others smile4 ,but have you never felt at moments such as those how unanimous is the fervour wherewith every soul admires1 and how unspeakably even the very feeblest1 from the remotest depths of its dungeon1 approves the word it has recognised as akin to itself8 ,for they have all suddenly sprung to life again in the primitive and normal atmosphere that is their own2 and could you but hearken with angels' ears1 ,i doubt not but you would hear mightiest applause in that kingdom of amazing radiance wherein the souls do dwell4 ,do you not think that even the most timid of them would take courage unto themselves were but similar words to be spoken every evening8 ,do you not think that men would live purer lives8 ,and yet though the word come not again1 still will something momentous have happened1 that must leave still more momentous trace behind4 ,every evening will its sisters recognise the soul that pronounced the word1 and henceforth1 be the conversation never so trivial1 its mere presence will1 ,i know not how1 add thereto something of majesty4 ,whatever else betide1 there has been a change that we cannot determine4 ,no longer will such absolute power be vested in the baser side of things1 and henceforth1 even the most terror stricken of souls will know that there is somewhere a place of refuge4444 ,certain it is that the natural and primitive relationship of soul to soul is a relationship of beauty4 ,for beauty is the only language of our soul2 none other is known to it4 ,it has no other life1 it can produce nothing else1 in nothing else can it take interest4 ,and therefore it is that the most oppressed1 nay1 the most degraded of souls--if it may truly be said that a soul can be degraded--immediately hail with acclamation every thought1 every word or deed1 that is great and beautiful4 ,beauty is the only element wherewith the soul is organically connected1 and it has no other standard of judgment4 ,this is brought home to us at every moment of our life1 and is no less evident to the man by whom beauty may more than once have been denied than to him who is ever seeking it in his heart4 ,should a day come when you stand in profoundest need of another's sympathy1 would you go to him who was wont to greet the passage of beauty with a sneering smile8 ,would you go to him whose shake of the head had sullied a generous action or a mere impulse that was pure8 ,even though perhaps you had been of those who commended him1 you would none the less1 when it was truth that knocked at your door1 turn to the man who had known how to prostrate himself and love4 ,in its very depths had your soul passed its judgment1 and it is this silent and unerring judgment that will rise to the surface1 after thirty years perhaps1 and send you towards a sister who shall be more truly you than you are yourself1 for that she has been nearer to beauty4444 ,there needs but so little to encourage beauty in our soul2 so little to awaken the slumbering angels2 or perhaps is there no need of awakening--it is enough that we lull them not to sleep4 ,it requires more effort to fall1 perhaps1 than to rise4 ,can we1 without putting constraint upon ourselves1 confine our thoughts to everyday things at times when the sea stretches before us1 and we are face to face with the night8 ,and what soul is there but knows that it is ever confronting the sea1 ever in presence of an eternal night8 ,did we but dread beauty less it would come about that nought else in life would be visible2 for in reality it is beauty that underlies everything1 it is beauty alone that exists4 ,there is no soul but is conscious of this1 none that is not in readiness2 but where are those that hide not their beauty8 ,and yet must one of them #8begin4' ,why not dare to be the one to #8begin'8 ,the others are all watching eagerly around us like little children in front of a marvellous palace4 ,they press upon the threshold1 whispering to each other and peering through every crevice1 but there is not one who dares put his shoulder to the door4 ,they are all waiting for some grown-up person to come and fling it open4 ,but hardly ever does such a one pass by4 ,and yet what is needed to become the grown-up person for whom they lie in wait8 ,so little6 ,the soul is not exacting4 ,a thought that is almost beautiful--a thought that you speak not1 but that you cherish within you at this moment1 will irradiate you as though you were a transparent vase4 ,they will see it and their greeting to you will be very different than had you been meditating how best to deceive your brother4 ,we are surprised when certain men tell us that they have never come across real ugliness1 that they cannot conceive that a soul can be base4 ,yet need there be no cause for surprise4 ,these men had #8begun4' ,they themselves had been the first to be beautiful1 and had therefore attracted all the beauty that passed by1 as a lighthouse attracts the vessels from the four corners of the horizon4 ,some there are who complain of women1 for instance1 never dreaming that1 the first time a man meets a woman1 a single word or thought that denies the beautiful or profound will be enough to poison for ever his existence in her soul4 #8,for my part1' said a sage to me one day1 #8,i have never come across a single woman who did not bring to me something that was great4' ,he was great himself first of all2 therein lay his secret4 ,there is one thing only that the soul can never forgive2 it is to have been compelled to behold1 or share1 or pass close to an ugly action1 word1 or thought4 ,it cannot forgive1 for forgiveness here were but the denial of itself4 ,and yet with the generality of men1 ingenuity1 strength and skill do but imply that the soul must first of all be banished from their life1 and that every impulse that lies too deep must be carefully brushed aside4 ,even in love do they act thus1 and therefore it is that the woman1 who is so much nearer the truth1 can scarcely ever live a moment of the true life with them4 ,it is as though men dreaded the contact of their soul1 and were anxious to keep its beauty at immeasurable distance4 ,whereas1 on the contrary1 we should endeavour to move in advance of ourselves4 ,if at this moment you think or say something that is too beautiful to be true in you--if you have but endeavoured to think or say it to-day1 on the morrow it will be true4 ,we must try to be more beautiful than ourselves2 we shall never distance our soul4 ,we can never err when it is question of silent or hidden beauty4 ,besides1 so long as the spring within us be limpid1 it matters but little whether error there be or not4 ,but do any of us ever dream of making the slightest unseen effort8 ,and yet in the domain where we are everything is effective1 for that everything is waiting4 ,all the doors are unlocked1 we have but to push them open1 and the palace is full of manacled queens4 ,a single word will very often suffice to clear the mountain of refuse4 ,why not have the courage to meet a base question with a noble answer8 ,do you imagine it would pass quite unnoticed or merely arouse surprise8 ,do you not think it would be more akin to the discourse that would naturally be held between two souls8 ,we know not where it may give encouragement1 where freedom4 ,even he who rejects your words will1 in spite of himself1 have taken a step towards the beauty that is within him4 ,nothing of beauty dies without having purified something1 nor can aught of beauty be lost4 ,let us not be afraid of sowing it along the road4 ,it may remain there for weeks or years1 but like the diamond it cannot dissolve1 and finally there will pass by some one whom its glitter will attract2 he will pick it up and go his way1 rejoicing4 ,then why keep back a lofty1 beautiful word1 for that you doubt whether others will understand8 ,an instant of higher goodness was impending over you2 why hinder its coming1 even though you believe not that those about you will profit thereby8 ,what if you are among men of the valley1 is that sufficient reason for checking the instinctive movement of your soul towards the mountain peaks8 ,does darkness rob deep feeling of its power8 ,have the blind nought but their eyes wherewith to distinguish those who love them from those who love them not8 ,can the beauty not exist that is not understood1 and is there not in every man something that does understand--in regions far beyond what he seems to understand1 far beyond1 too1 what he believes he understands8 #8,even to the very wretchedest of all1' said to me one day the loftiest minded creature it has ever been my happiness to know1 #8even to the very wretchedest of all ,i never have the courage to say anything in reply that is ugly or mediocre4' ,i have for a long time followed that man's life1 and have seen the inexplicable power he exercised over the most obscure1 the most unapproachable1 the blindest1 even the most rebellious of souls4 ,for no tongue can tell the power of a soul that strives to live in an atmosphere of beauty1 and is actively beautiful in itself4 ,and indeed is it not the quality of this activity that renders a life either miserable or divine8 ,if we could but probe to the root of things it might well be discovered that it is by the strength of some souls that are beautiful that others are sustained in life4 ,is it not the idea we each form of certain chosen ones that constitutes the only living1 effective morality8 ,but in this idea how much is there of the soul that is chosen1 how much of him who chooses8 ,do not these things blend very mysteriously1 and does not this ideal morality lie infinitely deeper than the morality of the most beautiful books8 ,a far-reaching influence exists therein whose limits it is indeed difficult to define1 and a fountain of strength whereat we all of us drink many times a day4 ,would not any weakness in one of those creatures whom you thought perfect and loved in the region of beauty1 at once lessen your confidence in the universal greatness of things1 and would your admiration for them suffer8 ,and again1 ,i doubt whether anything in the world can beautify a soul more spontaneously1 more naturally1 than the knowledge that somewhere in its neighbourhood there exists a pure and noble being whom it can unreservedly love4 ,when the soul has veritably drawn near to such a being1 beauty is no longer a lovely1 lifeless thing that one exhibits to the stranger1 for it suddenly takes unto itself an imperious existence1 and its activity becomes so natural as to be henceforth irresistible4 ,wherefore you will do well to think it over1 for none are alone1 and those who are good must watch4 ,plotinus1 in the eighth book of the fifth #8,ennead1' after speaking of the beauty that is #8intelligible'--i4e41 divine1 concludes thus3 #8,as regards ourselves1 we are beautiful when we belong to ourselves1 and ugly when we lower ourselves to our inferior nature4 ,also are we beautiful when we know ourselves1 and ugly when we have no such knowledge4' ,bear it in mind1 however1 that here we are on the mountains1 where not to know oneself means far more than mere ignorance of what takes place within us at moments of jealousy or love1 fear or envy1 happiness or unhappiness4 ,here not to know oneself means to be unconscious of all the divine that throbs in man4 ,as we wander from the gods within us so does ugliness enwrap us2 as we discover them1 so do we become more beautiful4 ,but it is only by revealing the divine that is in us that we may discover the divine in others4 ,needs must one god beckon to another1 and no signal is so imperceptible but they will every one of them respond4 ,it cannot be said too often that1 be the crevice never so small1 it will yet suffice for all the waters of heaven to pour into our soul4 ,every cup is stretched out to the unknown spring1 and we are in a region where none think of aught but beauty4 ,if we could ask of an angel what it is that our souls do in the shadow1 ,i believe the angel would answer1 after having looked for many years perhaps1 and seen far more than the things the soul seems to do in the eyes of men1 #8,they transform into beauty all the little things that are given to them4' ,ah6 we must admit that the human soul is possessed of singular courage6 ,resignedly does it labour1 its whole life long1 in the darkness whither most of us relegate it1 where it is spoken to by none4 ,there1 never complaining1 does it do all that in its power lies1 striving to tear from out the pebbles we fling to it the nucleus of eternal light that peradventure they contain4 ,and in the midst of its work it is ever lying in wait for the moment when it may show1 to a sister who is more tenderly cared for1 or who chances to be nearer1 the treasures it has so toilfully amassed4 ,but thousands of existences there are that no sister visits2 thousands of existences wherein life has infused such timidity into the soul that it departs without saying a word1 without even once having been able to deck itself with the humblest jewels of its humble crown4444 ,and yet1 in spite of all1 does it watch over everything from out its invisible heaven4 ,it warns and loves1 it admires1 attracts1 repels4 ,at every fresh event does it rise to the surface1 where it lingers till it be thrust down again1 being looked upon as wearisome and insane4 ,it wanders to and fro1 like ,cassandra at the gates of the ,atrides4 ,it is ever giving utterance to words of shadowy truth1 but there are none to listen4 ,when we raise our eyes it yearns for a ray of sun or star1 that it may weave into a thought1 or1 haply1 an impulse1 which shall be unconscious and very pure4 ,and if our eyes bring it nothing1 still will it know how to turn its pitiful disillusion into something ineffable1 that it will conceal even till its death4 ,when we love1 how eagerly does it drink in the light from behind the closed door--keen with expectation1 it yet wastes not a minute1 and the light that steals through the apertures becomes beauty and truth to the soul4 ,but if the door opens not 7and how many lives are there wherein it does open87 it will go back into its prison1 and its regret will perhaps be a loftier verity that shall never be seen1 for we are now in the region of transformations whereof none may speak2 and though nothing born this side of the door can be lost1 yet does it never mingle with our life4444 ,i said just now that the soul changed into beauty the little things we gave to it4 ,it would even seem1 the more we think of it1 that the soul has no other reason for existence1 and that all its activity is consumed in amassing1 at the depths of us1 a treasure of indescribable beauty4 ,might not everything naturally turn into beauty1 were we not unceasingly interrupting the arduous labours of our soul8 ,does not evil itself become precious so soon as it has gathered therefrom the deep lying diamond of repentance8 ,the acts of injustice whereof you have been guilty1 the tears you have caused to flow1 will not these end too by becoming so much radiance and love in your soul8 ,have you ever cast your eyes into this kingdom of purifying flame that is within you8 ,perhaps a great wrong may have been done you to-day1 the act itself being mean and disheartening1 the mode of action of the basest1 and ugliness wrapped you round as your tears fell4 ,but let some years elapse1 then give one look into your soul1 and tell me whether1 beneath the recollection of that act1 you see not something that is already purer than thought2 an indescribable1 unnameable force that has nought in common with the forces of this world2 a mysterious inexhaustible spring of the other life1 whereat you may drink for the rest of your days4 ,and yet will you have rendered no assistance to the untiring queen2 other thoughts will have filled your mind1 and it will be without your knowledge that the act will have been purified in the silence of your being1 and will have flown into the precious waters that lie in the great reservoir of truth and beauty1 which1 unlike the shallower reservoir of true or beautiful thoughts1 has an ever unruffled surface1 and remains for all time out of reach of the breath of life4 ,emerson tells us that there is not an act or event in our life but1 sooner or later1 casts off its outer shell1 and bewilders us by its sudden flight1 from the very depths of us1 on high into the empyrean4 ,and this is true to a far greater extent than ,emerson had foreseen1 for the further we advance in these regions1 the diviner are the spheres we discover4 ,we can form no adequate conception of what this silent activity of the souls that surround us may really mean4 ,perhaps you have spoken a pure word to one of your fellows by whom it has not been understood4 ,you look upon it as lost and dismiss it from your mind4 ,but one day1 peradventure1 the word comes up again extraordinarily transformed1 and revealing the unexpected fruit it has borne in the darkness2 then silence once more falls over all4 ,but it matters not2 we have learned that nothing can be lost in the soul1 and that even to the very pettiest there come moments of splendour4 ,it is unmistakably borne home to us that even the unhappiest and the most destitute of men have at the depths of their being and in spite of themselves a treasure of beauty that they cannot despoil4 ,they have but to acquire the habit of dipping into this treasure4 ,it suffices not that beauty should keep solitary festival in life2 it has to become a festival of every day4 ,there needs no great effort to be admitted into the ranks of those #8whose eyes no longer behold earth in flower and sky in glory in infinitesimal fragments1 but indeed in sublime masses1' and ,i speak here of flowers and sky that are purer and more lasting than those that we behold4 ,thousands of channels there are through which the beauty of our soul may sail even unto our thoughts4 ,above all is there the wonderful1 central channel of love4 ,is it not in love that are found the purest elements of beauty that we can offer to the soul8 ,some there are who do thus in beauty love each other4 ,and to love thus means that1 little by little1 the sense of ugliness is lost2 that one's eyes are closed to all the littlenesses of life1 to all but the freshness and virginity of the very humblest of souls4 ,loving thus1 we have no longer even the need to forgive4 ,loving thus1 we can no longer have anything to conceal1 for that the ever-present soul transforms all things into beauty4 ,it is to behold evil in so far only as it purifies indulgence1 and teaches us no longer to confound the sinner with his sin4 ,loving thus do we raise on high within ourselves all those about us who have attained an eminence where failure has become impossible2 heights whence a paltry action has so far to fall that1 touching earth1 it is compelled to yield up its diamond soul4 ,it is to transform1 though all unconsciously1 the feeblest intention that hovers about us into illimitable movement4 ,it is to summon all that is beautiful in earth1 heaven or soul1 to the banquet of love4 ,loving thus1 we do indeed exist before our fellows as we exist before ,god4 ,it means that the least gesture will call forth the presence of the soul with all its treasure4 ,no longer is there need of death1 disaster or tears for that the soul shall appear2 a smile suffices4 ,loving thus1 we perceive truth in happiness as profoundly as some of the heroes perceived it in the radiance of greatest sorrow4 ,it means that the beauty that turns into love is undistinguishable from the love that turns into beauty4 ,it means to be able no longer to tell where the ray of a star leaves off and the kiss of an ordinary thought begins4 ,it means to have come so near to ,god that the angels possess us4 ,loving thus1 the same soul will have been so beautified by us all that it will become1 little by little1 the #8unique angel' mentioned by ,swedenborg4 ,it means that each day will reveal to us a new beauty in that mysterious angel1 and that we shall walk together in a goodness that shall ever become more and more living1 loftier and loftier4 ,for there exists also a lifeless beauty1 made up of the past alone2 but the veritable love renders the past useless1 and its approach creates a boundless future of goodness1 without disaster and without tears4 ,to love thus is but to free one's soul1 and to become as beautiful as the soul thus freed4 #8,if1 in the emotion that this spectacle cannot fail to awaken in thee1' says the great ,plotinus1 when dealing with kindred matters--and of all the intellects known to me that of ,plotinus draws the nearest to the divine--#8,if1 in the emotion that this spectacle cannot fail to awaken in thee1 thou proclaimest not that it is beautiful2 and if1 plunging thine eyes into thyself1 thou dost not then feel the charm of beauty1 it is in vain that1 thy disposition being such1 thou shouldst seek the intelligible beauty2 for thou wouldst seek it only with that which is ugly and impure4 ,therefore it is that the discourse we hold here is not addressed to all men4 ,but if thou hast recognised beauty within thyself1 see that thou rise to the recollection of the intelligible beauty4' ,printed by ,,ballantyne1 ,,hanson ,,co4 ,edinburgh ,london