Part 14

To number every mystery were to sum the sum of all things: None can exhaust a theme, whereof God is example and similitude. Nevertheless, take a garland from the garden, a handful from the harvest, Some scattered drops of spray from the ceaseless mighty cataract. Whence are we,--whither do we tend,--how do we feel, and reason? How strange a thing is man, a spirit saturating clay! When doth soul make embryos immortal,--how do they rank hereafter,-- And will the unconscious idiot be quenched in death as nothing? In essence immaterial, are these minds, as it were, thinking machines? For, to understand may but rightly be to use a mechanism all possess, So that in reading or hearing of another, a man shall seem unto himself To be recollecting images or arguments, native and congenial to his mind: And yet, what shall we say,--who can arede the riddle? The brain may be clockwork, and mind its spring, mechanism quickened by a spirit.

Who so shrewd as rightly to divide life, instinct, reason; Trees, zoophytes, creatures of the plain, and savage men among them? Hath the mimosa instinct,--or the scallop more than life,-- Or the dog less than reason,--or the brute-man more than instinct? What is the cause of health,--and the gendering of disease? Why should arsenic kill, and whence is the potency of antidotes? Behold, a morsel,--eat and die; the term of thy probation is expired: Behold, a potion,--drink and be alive; the limit of thy trial is enlarged. Who can expound beauty? or explain the character of nations? Who will furnish a cause for the epidemic force of fashion? Is there a moral magnetism living in the light of example? Is practice electricity?--Yet all these are but names. Doth normal Art imprison, in its works, spirit translated into substance, So that the statue, the picture, or the poem, are crystals of the mind? And doth Philosophy with sublimating skill shred away the matter, Till rarefied intelligence exudeth even out of stocks and stones?

O Mysteries, ye all are one, the mind of an inexplicable Architect Dwelleth alike in each, quickening and moving in them all. Fields, and forests, and cities of men, their woes and wealth and works, And customs, and contrivances of life, with all we see and know, For a little way, a little while, ye hang dependent on each other, But all are held in one right-hand, and by His will ye are. Here is an answer unto mystery, an unintelligible God, This is the end and the beginning, it is reason that He be not understood. Therefore it were probable and just, even to a man's weak thinking, To have one for God who always may be learnt, yet never fully known: That He, from whom all mysteries spring, in whom they all converge, Throned in His sublimity beyond the grovellings of lower intellect, Should claim to be truer than man's truest, the boasted certainty of numbers, Should baffle his arithmetic, confound his demonstrations, and paralyse the might of his necessity, Standing supreme as the mystery of mysteries, everywhere, yet impersonate, Essential One in three, essential Three in one!

OF GIFTS.

I had a seeming friend;--I gave him gifts, and he was gone: I had an open enemy;--I gave him gifts, and won him: Common friendship standeth on equalities, and cannot bear a debt; But the very heart of hate melteth at a good man's love: Go to, then, thou that sayest,--I will give and rivet the links: For pride shall kick at obligation, and push the giver from him. The covetous spirit may rejoice, revelling in thy largess, But chilling selfishness will mutter,--I must give again: The vain heart may be glad, in this new proof of man's esteem, But the same idolatry of self abhorreth thoughts of thanking.

Nevertheless, give; for it shall be a discriminating test Separating honesty from falsehood, weeding insincerity from friendship. Give, it is like God; thou weariest the bad with benefits: Give, it is like God; thou gladdenest the good by gratitude. Give to thy near of kin, for providence hath stationed thee his helper: Yet see that he claim not, as his right, thy freewill offering of duty. Give to the young, they love it; neither hath the poison of suspicion Spoilt the flavour of their thanks, to look for latent motives. Give to merit, largely give; his conscious heart will bless thee: It is not flattery, but love,--the sympathy of men his brethren. Give, for encouragement in good; the weak desponding mind Hath many foes, and much to do, and leaneth on its friends. Yet heed thou wisely these; give seldom to thy better; For such obtrusive boon shall savour of presumption; Or, if his courteous bearing greet thy proffered kindness, Shall not thine independent honesty be vexed at the semblance of a bribe? Moreover, heed thou this; give to thine equal charily, The occasion fair and fitting, the gift well chosen and desired: Hath he been prosperous and blest? a flower may show thy gladness; Is he in need? with liberal love, tender him the well-filled purse: Disease shall welcome friendly care in grapes and precious unguents; And where a darling child hath died, give praise, and hope, and sympathy. Yet once more, heed thou this; give to the poor discreetly, Nor suffer idle sloth to lean upon thy charitable arm: To diligence give, as to an equal, on just and fit occasion; Or he bartereth his hard-earned self-reliance for the casual lottery of gifts. The timely loan hath added nerve, where easy liberality would palsy; Work and wages make a light heart; but the mendicant asked with a heavy spirit. A man's own self-respect is worth unto him more than money, And evil is the charity that humbleth, and maketh man less happy.

There are who sow liberalities, to reap the like again; But men accept his boon, scorning the shallow usurer: I have known many such a fisherman lose his golden baits: And oftentimes the tame decoy escapeth with the flock. Yea, there are who give unto the poor, to gain large interest of God,-- Fool,--to think His wealth is money, and not mind: And haply after thine alms, thy calculated givings, The hurricane shall blast thy crops, and sink the homeward ship; Then shall thy worldly soul murmur that the balances were false, Thy trader's mind shall think of God,--He stood not to His bargain!

Give, saith the preacher, be large in liberality, yield to the holy impulse, Tarry not for cold consideration, but cheerfully and freely scatter. So, for complacency of conscience, in a gush of counterfeited charity, He that hath not wherewith to be just, selfishly presumeth to be generous: The debtor, and the rich by wrong, are known among the band of the benevolent; And men extol the noble hearts, who rob that they may give. Receivers are but little prone to challenge rights of giving, Nor stop to test, for conscience-sake, the righteousness of mammon: And the zealot in a cause is a receiver, at the hand which bettereth his cause; And thus an unsuspected bribe shall blind the good man's judgment: It is easy to excuse greatness, and the rich are readily forgiven: What, if his gains were evil, sanctified by using them aright? O shallow flatterer, self-interest is thy thought, Hopeless of partaking in the like, thou too wouldst scorn the giver.

Money hath its value; and the scatterer thereof his thanks: Few men, drinking at a rivulet, stop to consider its source. The hand that closeth on an alm, be it for necessities or zeal, Hath small scruple whence it came: Vespasian rejoiceth in his tribute. Therefore have colleges and hospitals risen upon orphans' wrongs, Chapels and cathedrals have thriven on the welcome wages of iniquity, And fraud, in evil compensation, hath salved his guilty conscience, Not by restoring to the cheated, but by ostentatious giving to the grateful.

So, those who reap rejoice; and reaping, bless the sower: No one is eager to discover, where discovery tendeth unto loss: Yet, if knowledge of a theft make gainers thereby guilty, Can he be altogether innocent, who never asked the honesty of gain? Therefore, O preacher, zealous for charity, temper thy warm appeal,-- Warning the debtor and unjustly rich, they may not dare to give: To do good is a privilege and guerdon: how shouldst thou rejoice If ill-got gifts of presumptuous fraud be offered on the altar? The question is not of degrees; unhallowed alms are evil; Discourage and reject alike the obolus or talent of iniquity.

Yet more, be careful that, unworthily, thou gain not an advantage over weakness, Unstable souls, fervent and profuse, fluttered by the feeling of the moment; For eloquence swayeth to its will the feeble and the conscious of defect: Rashly give they, and afterward are sad,--a gift that doubly erred. It was the worldliness of priestcraft that accounted alms-giving for charity; And many a father's penitence hath steeped his son in penury; Yet, considered he lightly the guilt of a death-bed selfishness That strove to take with him, for gain, the gold no longer his; So he died in a false peace, and dying robbed his kindred; The cunning friar at his side having cheated both the living and the dead.

Charity sitteth on a fair hill-top, blessing far and near, But her garments drop ambrosia, chiefly, on the violets around her: She gladdeneth indeed the map-like scene, stretching to the verge of the horizon, For her angel face is lustrous and beloved, even as the moon in heaven: But the light of that beatific vision gloweth in serener concentration The nearer to her heart, and nearer to her home,--that hill-top where she sitteth: Therefore is she kind unto her kin, yearning in affection on her neighbours, Giving gifts to those around, who know and love her well. But the counterfeit of charity, an hypocrite of earth, not a grace of heaven, Seeketh not to bless at home, for her nearer aspect is ill-favoured: Therefore hideth she for shame, counting that pride humility, And none of those around her hearth are gladdened by her gifts: Rather, with an overreaching zeal, flingeth she her bounty to the stranger, And scattered prodigalities abroad compensate for meanness in her home: For benefits showered on the distant shine in unmixed beauty, So that even she may reap their undiscerning praise: Therefore native want hath pined, where foreign need was fattened; Woman been crushed by the tyrannous hand that upheld the flag of liberality; Poverty been prisoned up and starved, by hearts that are maudlin upon crime; And freeborn babes been manacled by men, who liberate the sturdy slave.

Policy counselleth a gift, given wisely and in season, And policy afterwards approveth it, for great is the influence of gifts. The lover, unsmiled upon before, is welcome for his jewelled bauble; The righteous cause without a fee, must yield to bounteous guilt: How fair is a man in thine esteem, whose just discrimination seeketh thee, And so, discerning merit, honoureth it with gifts! Yea, let the cause appear sufficient, and the motive clear and unsuspicious, As given to one who cannot help, or proving honest thanks, There liveth not one among a million, who is proof against the charm of liberality, And flattery, that boon of praise, hath power with the wisest.

Man is of three natures, craving all for charity; It is not enough to give him meats, withholding other comfort: For the mind starveth, and the soul is scorned, and so the human animal Eateth his unsatisfying pittance, a thankless heartless pauper: Yet would he bless thee and be grateful, didst thou feed his spirit, And teach him that thine alms-givings are charities, are loves: --I saw a beggar in the street, and another beggar pitied him; Sympathy sank into his soul, and the pitied one felt happier: Anon passed by a cavalcade, children of wealth and gaiety; They laughed, and looked upon the beggar, and the gallants flung him gold; He, poor spirit-humbled wretch, gathered up their givings with a curse, And went--to share it with his brother, the beggar who had pitied him!

OF BEAUTY.

Thou mightier than Manoah's son, whence is thy great strength, And wherein the secret of thy craft, O charmer charming wisely?-- For thou art strong in weakness, and in artlessness well skilled, Constant in the multitude of change, and simple amidst intricate complexity. Folly's shallow lip can ask the deepest question, And many wise in many words should answer, what is beauty?-- Who shall separate the hues that flicker on a dying dolphin, Or analyse the jewelled lights that deck the peacock's train, Or shrewdly mix upon a palette the tints of an iridescent spar, Or set in rank the wandering shades about a watered silk?

For beauty is intangible, vague, ill to be defined; She hath the coat of a chameleon, changing while we watch it. Strangely woven is the web, disorderly yet harmonious, A glistering robe of mingled mesh, that may not be unravelled. It is shot with heaven's blue, the soul of summer skies, And twisted strings of light, the mind of noonday suns, And ruddy gleams of life, that roll along the veins, A coat of many colours, running curiously together. There is threefold beauty for man; twofold beauty for the animal; And the beauty of inanimates is single: body, temper, spirit. Multiplied in endless combination, issue the changeable results; Each class verging on the other twain, with imperceptible gradation; And every individual in each having his propriety of difference, So that the meanest of creation bringeth in a tribute of the beautiful. Yea, from the worst in favour shineth out a fitness of design, The patent mark of beauty, its Maker's name imprest. For the great Creator's seal is set to all His works; Its quarterings are Attributes of praise, and all the shield is Beauty: So, that heraldic blazon is Creation's common signet; And the universal family of life goeth in the colours of its Lord: But each one, as a several son, shall bear those arms with a difference; Beauty, various in phase, and similar in seeming oppositions. The coins of old Rome were struck with a diversity for each, Barely two be found alike, in every Cæsar's image: So, note thou the seals, ranged round the charters of the Universe, The finger of God is the stamp upon them all, but each hath its separate variety.

Beauty, theme of innocence, how may guilt discourse thee? Let holy angels sing thy praise, for man hath marred thy visage. Still the maimed torso of a Theseus can gladden taste with its proportions; Though sin hath shattered every limb, how comely are the fragments! And music leaveth on the ear a memory of sweet sounds; And broken arches charm the sight with hints of fair completeness. So, while humbled at the ruin, be thou grateful for the relics; Go forth, and look on all around with kind uncaptious eye: Freely let us wander through these unfrequented ways, And talk of glorious beauty, filling all the world.

For beauty hideth everywhere, that Reason's child may seek her, And having found the gem of price, may set it in God's crown. Beauty nestleth in the rosebud, or walketh the firmament with planets, She is heard in the beetle's evening hymn, and shouteth in the matins of the sun; The cheek of the peach is glowing with her smile, her splendour blazeth in the lightning, She is the dryad of the woods, the naiad of the streams; Her golden hair hath tapestried the silkworm's silent chamber, And to her measured harmonies the wild waves beat in time; With tinkling feet at eventide she danceth in the meadow, Or, like a Titan, lieth stretched athwart the ridgy Alps; She is rising, in her veil of mist, a Venus from the waters,-- Men gaze upon the loveliness,--and lo, it is beautiful exceedingly; She, with the might of a Briareus, is dragging down the clouds upon the mountain,-- Men look upon the grandeur,--and lo, it is excellent in glory. For I judge that beauty and sublimity be but the lesser and the great, Sublime, as magnified to giants, and beautiful, diminished into fairies. It were a false fancy to solve all beauty by desire, It were a lowering thought to expound sublimity by dread. Cowardly men with trembling hearts have feared the furious storm, Nor felt its thrilling beauty; but is it then not beautiful? And careless men, at summer's eve, have loved the dimpled waves; O that smile upon the seas,--hath it no sublimity? Dost thou nothing know of this,--to be awed at woman's beauty? Nor, with exhilarated heart, to hail the crashing thunder? Thou hast much to learn, that never found a fearfulness in flowers; Thou hast missed of joy, that never basked in beauties of the terrible.

Show me an enthusiast in aught; he hath noted one thing narrowly, And lo, his keenness hath detected the one dear hiding place of beauty: Then he boasteth, simple soul, flattered by discovery, Fancying that no science else can show so fair and precious: He hath found a ray of light, and cherisheth the treasure in his closet, Mocking at those larger minds, that bathe in floods of noon; Lo, what a jewel hath he gotten,--this is the monopolist of beauty,-- And lightly heeding all beside, he poured his yearnings thitherward: Be it for love, or for learning, habit, art, or nature, Exclusive thought is all the cause of this particular zeal. But like intensity of fitness, kind and skilful beauty, So pleasant to his mind in one thing, filleth all beside: From the waking minute of a chrysalis, to the perfect cycle of chronology, From the centipede's jointed armour to the mammoth's fossil ribs, From the kingfisher's shrill note, to the cataract's thundering bass, From the greensward's grateful hues, to the fascinating eye of woman, Beauty, various in all things, setteth up her home in each, Shedding graciously around an omnipresent smile.

There is beauty in the rolling clouds, and placid shingle beach, In feathery snows, and whistling winds, and dun electric skies; There is beauty in the rounded woods, dank with heavy foliage, In laughing fields, and dinted hills, the valley and its lake; There is beauty in the gullies, beauty on the cliffs, beauty in sun and shade, In rocks and rivers, seas and plains,--the earth is drowned in beauty.

Beauty coileth with the watersnake, and is cradled in the shrewmouse's nest, She flitteth out with evening bats, and the soft mole hid her in his tunnel; The limpet is encamped upon the shore, and beauty not a stranger to his tent; The silvery dace and golden carp thread the rushes with her: She saileth into clouds with an eagle, she fluttereth into tulips with a humming bird; The pasturing kine are of her company, and she prowleth with the leopard in his jungle.

Moreover, for the reasonable world, its words, and acts, and speculations, For frail and fallen manhood, in his every work and way, Beauty, wrecked and stricken, lingereth still among us, And morsels of that shattered sun are dropt upon the darkness. Yea, with savages and boors, the mean, the cruel, and besotted, Ever in extenuating grace hide some relics of the beautiful. Gleams of kindness, deeds of courage, patience, justice, generosity, Truth welcomed, knowledge prized, rebukes taken with contrition, All, in various measure, have been blest with some of these, And never yet hath lived the man, utterly beggared of the beautiful.

Beauty is as crystal in the torchlight, sparkling on the poet's page; Virgin honey of Hymettus, distilled from the lips of the orator; A savour of sweet spikenard, anointing the hands of liberality; A feast of angels' food set upon the tables of religion. She is seen in the tear of sorrow, and heard in the exuberance of mirth; She goeth out early with the huntsman, and watcheth at the pillow of disease. Science in his secret laws hath found out latent beauty, Sphere and square, and cone and curve, are fashioned by her rules: Mechanism met her in his forces, fancy caught her in its flittings, Day is lightened by her eyes, and her eyelids close upon the night.

Beauty is dependence in the babe, a toothless tender nurseling; Beauty is boldness in the boy, a curly rosy truant; Beauty is modesty and grace in fair retiring girlhood; Beauty is openness and strength in pure high-minded youth: Man, the noble and intelligent, gladdeneth earth with beauty, And woman's beauty sunneth him, as with a smile from heaven.

There is none enchantment against beauty, Magician for all time, Whose potent spells of sympathy have charmed the passive world: Verily, she reigneth a Semiramis; there is no might against her; The lords of every land are harnessed to her triumph. Beauty is conqueror of all, nor ever yet was found among the nations That iron-moulded mind, full proof against her power. Beauty, like a summer's day, subdueth by sweet influences; Who can wrestle against Sleep?--yet is that giant, very gentleness.

Ajax may rout a phalanx, but beauty shall enslave him single-handed; Pericles ruled Athens, yet he is the servant of Aspasia: Light were the labour, and often-told the tale, to count the victories of beauty,-- Helen, and Judith, and Omphale, and Thais, many a trophied name. At a glance the misanthrope was softened, and repented of his vows, When Beauty asked, he gave, and banned her--with a blessing; The cold ascetic loved the smile that lit his dismal cell, And kindly stayed her step, and wept when she departed; The bigot abbess felt her heart gush with a mother's feeling, When looking on some lovely face beneath the cloister's shade; Usury freed her without ransom; the buccaneer was gentle in her presence; Madness kissed her on the cheek, and Idiotcy brightened at her coming: Yea, the very cattle in the field, and hungry prowlers of the forest With fawning homage greeted her, as Beauty glided by. A welcome guest unbidden, she is dear to every hearth; A glad spontaneous growth of friends is springing round her rest: Learning sitteth at her feet, and Idleness laboureth to please her, Folly hath flung aside his bells, and leaden Dulness gloweth; Prudence is rash in her defence; Frugality filleth her with riches; Despair came to her for counsel; and Bereavement was glad when she consoled; Justice putteth up his sword at the tear of supplicating beauty, And Mercy, with indulgent haste, hath pardoned beauty's sin.

For beauty is the substitute for all things, satisfying every absence, The rich delirious cup to make all else forgotten: She also is the zest unto all things, enhancing every presence, The rare and precious ambergris, to quicken each perfume. O beauty, thou art eloquent; yea, though slow of tongue, Thy breast, fair Phryne, pleaded well before the dazzled judge: O beauty, thou art wise; yea, though teaching falsely, Sages listen, sweet Corinna, to commend thy lips; O beauty, thou art ruler; yea, though lowly as a slave, Myrrha, that imperial brow is monarch of thy lord; O beauty, thou art winner; yea, though halting in the race, Hippodame, Camilla, Atalanta,--in gracefulness ye fascinate your umpires; O beauty, thou art rich; yea, though clad in russet, Attalus cannot boast his gold against the wealth of beauty; O beauty, thou art noble; yea, though Esther be an exile, Set her up on high, ye kings, and bow before the majesty of beauty!