Part 8

Do you say this, or I?—Oh, you! Then, what, my friend?—(thus I pursue Our parley)—you indeed opine That the Eternal and Divine Did, eighteen centuries ago, In very truth.... Enough! you know The all-stupendous tale,—that Birth, That Life, that Death! And all, the earth Shuddered at,—all, the heavens grew black Rather than see; all, nature’s rack And throe at dissolution’s brink Attested,—all took place, you think, Only to give our joys a zest, And prove our sorrows for the best? We differ, then! Were I, still pale And heartstruck at the dreadful tale, Waiting to hear God’s voice declare What horror followed for my share, As implicated in the deed, Apart from other sins,—concede That if he blacked out in a blot My brief life’s pleasantness, ’twere not So very disproportionate! Or there might be another fate— I certainly could understand (If fancies were the thing in hand) How God might save, at that day’s price, The impure in their impurities, Give formal licence and complete To choose the fair and pick the sweet. But there be certain words, broad, plain, Uttered again and yet again, Hard to mistake or overgloss— Announcing this world’s gain for loss, And bidding us reject the same: The whole world lieth (they proclaim) In wickedness,—come out of it! Turn a deaf ear, if you think fit, But I who thrill through every nerve At thought of what deaf ears deserve,— How do you counsel in the case?

The counsel was, to choose by all means the safe side, by giving up everything as literally as did the martyrs in the early days of persecution; at which a shudder of doubt comes over him, and he answers (note the very remarkable illustration of the moles and the grasshoppers):—

X.

* * * * *

If after all we should mistake, And so renounce life for the sake Of death and nothing else? You hear Our friends we jeered at, send the jeer Back to ourselves with good effect— “There were my beetles to collect! “My box—a trifle, I confess, “But here I hold it, ne’ertheless!” Poor idiots, (let us pluck up heart And answer) we, the better part Have chosen, though ’twere only hope,— Nor envy moles like you that grope Amid your veritable muck, More than the grasshoppers would truck, For yours, their passionate life away, That spends itself in leaps all day To reach the sun, you want the eyes To see, as they the wings to rise And match the noble hearts of them! Thus the contemner we contemn,— And, when doubt strikes us, thus we ward Its stroke off, caught upon our guard, —Not struck enough to overturn Our faith, but shake it—make us learn What I began with, and, I wis, End, having proved,—how hard it is To be a Christian!

His friend now reproaches him with the thanklessness of the task he is undertaking, in trying to so little purpose to disturb the peace of a man who has no such high-flown views of duty; whereupon he relates to him a wonderful experience he had on Easter-morn three years before:—

XIV.

I commence By trying to inform you, whence It comes that every Easter-night As now, I sit up, watch, till light, Upon those chimney-stacks and roofs, Give, through my window-pane, grey proofs That Easter-day is breaking slow. On such a night three years ago, It chanced that I had cause to cross The common, where the chapel was, Our friend spoke of, the other day— You’ve not forgotten, I dare say. I fell to musing of the time So close, the blessed matin-prime All hearts leap up at, in some guise— One could not well do otherwise. Insensibly my thoughts were bent Toward the main point; I overwent Much the same ground of reasoning As you and I just now. One thing Remained, however—one that tasked My soul to answer; and I asked, Fairly and frankly, what might be That History, that Faith, to me —Me there—not me in some domain Built up and peopled by my brain, Weighing its merits as one weighs Mere theories for blame or praise, —The kingcraft of the Lucumons, Or Fourier’s scheme, its pros and cons,— But my faith there, or none at all. “How were my case, now, did I fall “Dead here, this minute—should I lie “Faithful or faithless?”

To this solemn question a friendly answer seems to come from Common Sense, assuring him that all would be right; for, though his ship might not sail very grandly into the eternal haven, it was enough if, in whatever state of wreck, it arrived at all; which leads him to utter the deepest wish and expectation of his heart:—

Would the ship reach home! I wish indeed “God’s kingdom come—” The day when I shall see appear His bidding, as my duty, clear From doubt! And it shall dawn, that day, Some future season; Easter may Prove, not impossibly, the time— Yes, that were striking—fates would chime So aptly! Easter-morn, to bring The Judgment!—deeper in the spring Than now, however, when there’s snow Capping the hills; for earth must show All signs of meaning to pursue Her tasks as she was wont to do —The skylark, taken by surprise As we ourselves, shall recognise Sudden the end. For suddenly It comes; the dreadfulness must be In that; all warrants the belief— “At night it cometh like a thief,” I fancy why the trumpet blows; —Plainly, to wake one. From repose We shall start up, at last awake From life, that insane dream we take For waking now.

* * * * *

The next stanza gives the famous description of the fiery aurora, when even “the south firmament with north-fire did its wings refledge!” (Compare description of lunar rainbow in “Christmas-Eve.”) He feels sure that his wish is realized, and the Judgment Day has come!

XV.

* * * * *

I found Suddenly all the midnight round One fire. The dome of heaven had stood As made up of a multitude Of handbreadth cloudlets, one vast rack Of ripples infinite and black, From sky to sky. Sudden there went, Like horror and astonishment, A fierce vindictive scribble of red Quick flame across, as if one said (The angry scribe of Judgment) “There— “Burn it!” And straight I was aware That the whole ribwork round, minute Cloud touching cloud beyond compute, Was tinted, each with its own spot Of burning at the core, till clot Jammed against clot, and spilt its fire Over all heaven, which ’gan suspire As fanned to measure equable,— Just so great conflagrations kill Night overhead, and rise and sink, Reflected. Now the fire would shrink And wither off the blasted face Of heaven, and I distinct might trace The sharp black ridgy outlines left Unburned like network—then, each cleft The fire had been sucked back into, Regorged, and out it surging flew Furiously, and night writhed inflamed, Till, tolerating to be tamed No longer, certain rays world-wide Shot downwardly. On every side Caught past escape, the earth was lit; As if a dragon’s nostril split, And all his famished ire o’erflowed; Then as he winced at his lord’s goad, Back he inhaled: whereat I found The clouds into vast pillars bound, Based on the corners of the earth, Propping the skies at top: a dearth Of fire i’ the violet intervals, Leaving exposed the utmost walls Of time, about to tumble in And end the world.

XVI.

I felt begin The Judgment-Day: to retrocede Was too late now. “In very deed,” (I uttered to myself) “that Day!” The intuition burned away All darkness from my spirit too: There, stood I, found and fixed, I knew, Choosing the world. The choice was made; And naked and disguiseless stayed, And unevadable, the fact. My brain held ne’ertheless compact Its senses, nor my heart declined Its office; rather, both combined To help me in this juncture. I Lost not a second,—agony Gave boldness: since my life had end And my choice with it—best defend, Applaud both! I resolved to say, “So was I framed by thee, such way “I put to use thy senses here! “It was so beautiful, so near, “Thy world,—what could I then but choose “My part there? Nor did I refuse “To look above the transient boon “Of time; but it was hard so soon “As in a short life, to give up “Such beauty: I could put the cup “Undrained of half its fulness, by; “But, to renounce it utterly, “—That was too hard! Nor did the cry “Which bade renounce it, touch my brain “Authentically deep and plain “Enough to make my lips let go. “But thou, who knowest all, dost know “Whether I was not, life’s brief while, “Endeavouring to reconcile “Those lips (too tardily, alas!) “To letting the dear remnant pass, “One day,—some drops of earthly good “Untasted! Is it for this mood, “That thou, whose earth delights so well, “Hast made its complement a hell?”

XVII.

A final belch of fire like blood, Overbroke all heaven in one flood Of doom. Then fire was sky, and sky Fire, and both, one brief ecstasy, Then ashes. But I heard no noise (Whatever was) because a voice Beside me spoke thus, “Life is done, “Time ends, Eternity’s begun, “And thou art judged for evermore.”

As in “Christmas-Eve,” the question rises of a Presence in the awful scene.

XIX.

* * * * *

What if, ’twixt skies And prostrate earth, he should surprise The imaged vapour, head to foot, Surveying, motionless and mute, Its work, ere, in a whirlwind rapt It vanish up again?—So hapt My chance. HE stood there. Like the smoke Pillared o’er Sodom, when day broke,— I saw him. One magnific pall Mantled in massive fold and fall His head, and coiled in snaky swathes About his feet: night’s black, that bathes All else, broke, grizzled with despair, Against the soul of blackness there. A gesture told the mood within— That wrapped right hand which based the chin That intense meditation fixed On his procedure,—pity mixed With the fulfilment of decree. Motionless, thus, he spoke to me, Who fell before his feet, a mass, No man now.

Then follows the Sentence, excluding him from the heaven of spirit, and leaving him to the world of sense, hopeless for ever of anything higher—a sentence which seemed to him at first to be rather a reward than a punishment, as he thought of “earth’s resources—vast exhaustless beauty, endless change of wonder!” Even a fern-leaf a museum in itself!

The answer of the Voice to this shallow thought leads us into the very loftiest regions of the imagination, suggesting views of the future of the redeemed which make the soul thrill with eager expectancy—

XXIV.

Then the Voice, “Welcome so to rate “The arras-folds that variegate “The earth, God’s antechamber, well! “The wise, who waited there, could tell “By these, what royalties in store “Lay one step past the entrance-door. “For whom, was reckoned, not too much, “This life’s munificence? For such “As thou,—a race, whereof scarce one “Was able, in a million, “To feel that any marvel lay “In objects round his feet all day; “Scarce one in many millions more, “Willing, if able, to explore “The secreter, minuter charm! “—Brave souls, a fern-leaf could disarm “Of power to cope with God’s intent,— “Or scared if the south firmament “With north-fire did its wings refledge! “All partial beauty was a pledge “Of beauty in its plenitude: “But since the pledge sufficed thy mood, “Retain it! plenitude be theirs “Who looked above!”

At this answer “sharp despairs shot through” him, at the thought of what he had missed; but on reflection he finds comfort in the prospect of the possibilities of Art. Again the inexorable voice is heard, pronouncing loss unspeakable. Even if he could be a Michelangelo (Buonarroti), it would be only the initial earthly stage of his development that was possible for him. (The whole passage is magnificent; but perhaps the exquisitely wrought-out illustration of the lizard in its narrow rock-chamber will be most enjoyed.)

XXVI.

* * * * *

“If such his soul’s capacities, “Even while he trod the earth,—think, now, “What pomp in Buonarroti’s brow, “With its new palace-brain where dwells “Superb the soul, unvexed by cells “That crumbled with the transient clay! “What visions will his right hand’s sway “Still turn to form, as still they burst “Upon him? How will he quench thirst, “Titanically infantine, “Laid at the breast of the Divine? “Does it confound thee,—this first page “Emblazoning man’s heritage?— “Can this alone absorb thy sight, “As pages were not infinite,— “Like the omnipotence which tasks “Itself, to furnish all that asks “The soul it means to satiate? “What was the world, the starry state “Of the broad skies,—what, all displays “Of power and beauty intermixed, “Which now thy soul is chained betwixt,— “What else than needful furniture “For life’s first stage? God’s work, be sure, “No more spreads wasted, than falls scant! “He filled, did not exceed, man’s want “Of beauty in this life. But through “Life pierce,—and what has earth to do, “Its utmost beauty’s appanage, “With the requirement of next stage? “Did God pronounce earth ‘very good’? “Needs must it be, while understood “For man’s preparatory state; “Nothing to heighten nor abate: “Transfer the same completeness here, “To serve a new state’s use,—and drear “Deficiency gapes every side! “The good, tried once, were bad, retried. “See the enwrapping rocky niche, “Sufficient for the sleep, in which “The lizard breathes for ages safe: “Split the mould—and as this would chafe “The creature’s new world-widened sense, “One minute after day dispense “The thousand sounds and sights that broke “In on him at the chisel’s stroke,— “So, in God’s eye, the earth’s first stuff “Was, neither more nor less, enough “To house man’s soul, man’s need fulfil. “Man reckoned it immeasurable? “So thinks the lizard of his vault! “Could God be taken in default, “Short of contrivances, by you,— “Or reached, ere ready to pursue “His progress through eternity? “That chambered rock, the lizard’s world, “Your easy mallet’s blow has hurled “To nothingness for ever; so, “Has God abolished at a blow “This world, wherein his saints were pent,— “Who, though found grateful and content, “With the provision there, as thou, “Yet knew he would not disallow “Their spirit’s hunger, felt as well,— “Unsated,—not unsatable, “As paradise gives proof. Deride “Their choice now, thou who sit’st outside!”

The poem proceeds in the same lofty strain, till—humbled to the dust at the thought of the unutterable folly of his choice, especially in view of the love of God expressed on Calvary, a love which he had slighted in the happy days gone by—he presents the touching plea of the 31st stanza, the result of which appears in what follows, spoken of by Professor Kirkman of Cambridge, as “the splendid consummation of Easter-Day so closely resembling the well-known crisis in Faust.”

XXXI.

And I cowered deprecatingly— “Thou Love of God! Or let me die, “Or grant what shall seem heaven almost! “Let me not know that all is lost, “Though lost it be—leave me not tied “To this despair, this corpse-like bride! “Let that old life seem mine—no more— “With limitation as before, “With darkness, hunger, toil, distress: “Be all the earth a wilderness! “Only let me go on, go on, “Still hoping ever and anon “To reach one eve the Better Land!”

XXXII.

Then did the form expand, expand— I knew him through the dread disguise As the whole God within his eyes Embraced me.

XXXIII.

When I lived again, The day was breaking,—the grey plain I rose from, silvered thick with dew. Was this a vision? False or true? Since then, three varied years are spent, And commonly my mind is bent To think it was a dream—be sure A mere dream and distemperature— The last day’s watching: then the night,— The shock of that strange Northern Light Set my head swimming, bred in me A dream. And so I live, you see, Go through the world, try, prove, reject, Prefer, still struggling to effect My warfare; happy that I can Be crossed and thwarted as a man, Not left in God’s contempt apart, With ghastly smooth life, dead at heart, Tame in earth’s paddock as her prize. Thank God, she still each method tries To catch me, who may yet escape, She knows, the fiend in angel’s shape! Thank God, no paradise stands barred To entry, and I find it hard To be a Christian, as I said! Still every now and then my head Raised glad, sinks mournful—all grows drear Spite of the sunshine, while I fear And think, “How dreadful to be grudged “No ease henceforth, as one that’s judged, “Condemned to earth for ever, shut “From heaven!” But Easter-Day breaks! But Christ rises! Mercy every way Is infinite,—and who can say?

AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT.

THE CHAUTAUQUA PRESS.

In order to create a permanent library of useful and standard books for the homes of our C. L. S. C. members, and to reduce the expense of the Seal courses, we have organized the CHAUTAUQUA PRESS.

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READINGS FROM RUSKIN.

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This volume contains Lord Macaulay’s Essays on “Dante,” “Petrarch,” and “Machiavelli,” “Lays of Ancient Rome,” and “Pompeii.”

ART, AND THE FORMATION OF TASTE.

BY LUCY CRANE.

With an Introduction by CHARLES G. WHITING of “The Springfield [Mass.] Republican.”

This volume contains lectures on “Decorative Art, Form, Color, Dress, and Needlework,” “Fine Arts,” “Sculpture,” “Architecture,” “Painting.”

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF MICHAEL ANGELO.

BY R. DUPPA [BOHN’S EDITION].

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Transcriber’s note:

Page vi, ‘implicity’ changed to ‘implicitly,’ “explicitly or implicitly affirmed”

Page 13, apostrophe inserted before ‘Twas,’ “’Twas moonset at starting”

Page 15, single quote changed to double quote before ‘How,’ ““How they’ll greet us!”

Page 42, comma changed to full stop after ‘chivalry,’ “of chivalry. In those days”

Page 50, double quote inserted after ‘awhile,’ “since, and lost awhile.””

Page 51, single quote changed to double quote before ‘Touch,’ ““Touch him ne’er so”

Page 54, full stop inserted after ‘shone,’ “his presence shone.”

Page 61, full stop inserted after ‘sight,’ “soul was in sight.”

Page 67, double quote inserted after ‘sound,’ “new sense was sound.””

Page 77, full stop inserted after ‘end,’ “uninterruptedly to the end.”

Page 81, single quote changed to double quote before ‘Here,’ ““Here, the creature”

Page 108, quoting regularized in stanza VIII.

Page 122, single quote inserted before ‘My,’ “‘My list of coleoptera!”

Page 133, ‘omipotence’ changed to ‘omnipotence,’ “Like the omnipotence which”