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diff --git a/8105.txt b/8105.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..70385b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/8105.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7686 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Imaginations and Reveries, by +(A.E.) George William Russell + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Imaginations and Reveries + +Author: (A.E.) George William Russell + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8105] +Posting Date: July 29, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IMAGINATIONS AND REVERIES *** + + + + +Produced by Jake Jaqua + + + + + +IMAGINATIONS AND REVERIES + + +By AE [George William Russell] + + + + + +PREFACE + + +The publishers of this book thought that a volume of articles and tales +written by me during the past twenty-five years would have interest +enough to justify publication, and asked me to make a selection. I have +not been able to make up a book with only one theme. My temperament +would only allow me to be happy when I was working at art. My conscience +would not let me have peace unless I worked with other Irishmen at the +reconstruction of Irish life. Birth in Ireland gave me a bias towards +Irish nationalism, while the spirit which inhabits my body told me the +politics of eternity ought to be my only concern, and that all other +races equally with my own were children of the Great King. To aid in +movements one must be orthodox. My desire to help prompted agreement, +while my intellect was always heretical. I had written out of every +mood, and could not retain any mood for long. If I advocated a +national ideal I felt immediately I could make an equal plea for more +cosmopolitan and universal ideas. I have observed my intuitions wherever +they drew me, for I felt that the Light within us knows better than any +other the need and the way. So I have no book on one theme, and the only +unity which connects what is here written is a common origin. The reader +must try a balance between the contraries which exist here as they +exist in us all, as they exist and are harmonized in that multitudinous +meditation which is the universe.--A.E. + + + + +PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION + + +To this edition four essays have been added. Two of these, "Thoughts +for a Convention" and "The New Nation," made some little stir when they +first appeared. Ireland since then has passed away from the mood which +made it possible to consider the reconciliations suggested, and has +set its heart on more fundamental changes, and these essays have only +interest as marking a moment of transition in national life before it +took a new road leading to another destiny. + + + +CONTENTS + + NATIONALITY OR COSMOPOLITANISM + STANDISH O'GRADY + THE DRAMATIC TREATMENT OF LEGEND + THE CHARACTER OF HEROIC LITERATURE + A POET OF SHADOWS + THE BOYHOOD OF A POET + THE POETRY OF JAMES STEPHENS + A NOTE ON SEUMAS O'SULLIVAN + ART AND LITERATURE + AN ARTIST OF GARLIC IRELAND + TWO IRISH ARTISTS + "ULSTER" + IDEALS OF THE NEW RURAL SOCIETY + THOUGHTS FOR A CONVENTION + THE NEW NATION + THE SPIRITUAL CONFLICT + ON AN IRISH HILL + RELIGION AND LOVE + THE RENEWAL OF YOUTH + THE HERO IN MAN + THE MEDITATION OF ANANDA + THE MIDNIGHT BLOSSOM + THE CHILDHOOD OF APOLLO + THE MASK OF APOLLO + The CAVE OF LILITH + THE STORY OF A STAR + THE DREAM OF ANGUS OGE + DEIRDRE + + + + + +NATIONALITY OR COSMOPOLITANISM + +As one of those who believe that the literature of a country is for +ever creating a new soul among its people, I do not like to think that +literature with us must follow an inexorable law of sequence, and gain a +spiritual character only after the bodily passions have grown weary and +exhausted themselves. In the essay called The Autumn of the Body, Mr. +Yeats seems to indicate such a sequence. Yet, whether the art of any +of the writers of the decadence does really express spiritual things is +open to doubt. The mood in which their work is conceived, a distempered +emotion, through which no new joy quivers, seems too often to tell +rather of exhausted vitality than of the ecstasy of a new life. However +much, too, their art refines itself, choosing, ever rarer and more +exquisite forms of expression, underneath it all an intuition seems to +disclose only the old wolfish lust, hiding itself beneath the golden +fleece of the spirit. It is not the spirit breaking through corruption, +but the life of the senses longing to shine with the light which makes +saintly things beautiful: and it would put on the jeweled raiment of +seraphim, retaining still a heart of clay smitten through and through +with the unappeasable desire of the flesh: so Rossetti's women, who have +around them all the circumstance of poetry and romantic beauty, seem +through their sucked-in lips to express a thirst which could be allayed +in no spiritual paradise. Art in the decadence in our time might be +symbolized as a crimson figure undergoing a dark crucifixion: the hosts +of light are overcoming it, and it is dying filled with anguish and +despair at a beauty it cannot attain. All these strange emotions have a +profound psychological interest. I do not think because a spiritual +flaw can be urged against a certain phase of life that it should remain +unexpressed. The psychic maladies which attack all races when their +civilization grows old must needs be understood to be dealt with: and +they cannot be understood without being revealed in literature or art. +But in Ireland we are not yet sick with this sickness. As psychology +it concerns only the curious. Our intellectual life is in suspense. The +national spirit seems to be making a last effort to assert itself +in literature and to overcome cosmopolitan influences and the art +of writers who express a purely personal feeling. It is true that +nationality may express itself in many ways: it may not be at all +evident in the subject matter, but it may be very evident in the +sentiment. But a literature loosely held together by some emotional +characteristics common to the writers, however great it may be, does not +fulfill the purpose of a literature or art created by a number of men +who have a common aim in building up an overwhelming ideal--who create, +in a sense, a soul for their country, and who have a common pride in the +achievement of all. The world has not seen this since the great antique +civilizations of Egypt and Greece passed away. We cannot imagine an +Egyptian artist daring enough to set aside the majestic attainment of +many centuries. An Egyptian boy as he grew up must have been overawed by +the national tradition, and have felt that it was not to be set aside: +it was beyond his individual rivalry. The soul of Egypt incarnated in +him, and, using its immemorial language and its mysterious lines, the +efforts of the least workman who decorated a tomb seem to have been +directed by the same hand that carved the Sphinx. This adherence to a +traditional form is true of Greece, though to a less extent. Some +little Tanagra terra-cottas might have been fashioned by Phidias, and +in literature Ulysses and Agamemnon were not the heroes of one epic, but +appeared endlessly in epic and drama. Since the Greek civilization no +European nation has had an intellectual literature which was genuinely +national. In the present century, leaving aside a few things in outward +circumstance, there is little to distinguish the work of the +best English writers or artists from that of their Continental +contemporaries. Milliais, Leighton, Rossetti, Turner--how different from +each other, and yet they might have painted the same pictures as born +Frenchmen, and it would not have excited any great surprise as a marked +divergence from French art. The cosmopolitan spirit, whether for good or +for evil, is hastily obliterating all distinctions. What is distinctly +national in these countries is less valuable than the immense wealth of +universal ideas; and the writers who use this wealth appeal to no narrow +circle: the foremost writers, the Tolstois and Ibsens, are conscious of +addressing a European audience. + +If nationality is to justify itself in the face of all this, it must be +because the country which preserves its individuality does so with the +profound conviction that its peculiar ideal is nobler than that which +the cosmopolitan spirit suggests--that this ideal is so precious to it +that its loss would be as the loss of the soul, and that it could not +be realized without an aloofness from, if not an actual indifference to, +the ideals which are spreading so rapidly over Europe. Is it possible +for any nationality to make such a defense of its isolation? If not, +let us read Goethe, Balzac, Tolstoi, men so much greater than any we +can show, try to absorb their universal wisdom, and no longer confine +ourselves to local traditions. But nationality was never so strong in +Ireland as at the present time. It is beginning to be felt, less as a +political movement than as a spiritual force. It seems to be gathering +itself together, joining men who were hostile before, in a new +intellectual fellowship: and if all these could unite on fundamentals, +it would be possible in a generation to create a national Ideal in +Ireland, or rather to let that spirit incarnate fully which began among +the ancient peoples, which has haunted the hearts and whispered a dim +revelation of itself through the lips of the bards and peasant story +tellers. + +Every Irishman forms some vague ideal of his country, born from his +reading of history, or from contemporary politics, or from imaginative +intuition; and this Ireland in the mind it is, not the actual Ireland, +which kindles his enthusiasm. For this he works and makes sacrifices; +but because it has never had any philosophical definition or a supremely +beautiful statement in literature which gathered all aspirations about +it, the ideal remains vague. This passionate love cannot explain itself; +it cannot make another understand its devotion. To reveal Ireland in +clear and beautiful light, to create the Ireland in the heart, is the +province of a national literature. Other arts would add to this ideal +hereafter, and social life and politics must in the end be in harmony. +We are yet before our dawn, in a period comparable to Egypt before the +first of her solemn temples constrained its people to an equal mystery, +or to Greece before the first perfect statue had fixed an ideal of +beauty which mothers dreamed of to mould their yet unborn children. We +can see, however, as the ideal of Ireland grows from mind to mind, it +tends to assume the character of a sacred land. The Dark Rosaleen of +Mangan expresses an almost religious adoration, and to a later writer it +seems to be nigher to the spiritual beauty than other lands: + + And still the thoughts of Ireland brood + Upon her holy quietude. + +The faculty of abstracting from the land their eyes beheld another +Ireland through which they wandered in dream, has always been a +characteristic of the Celtic poets. This inner Ireland which the +visionary eye saw was the Tirnanoge, the Country of Immortal Youth, for +they peopled it only with the young and beautiful. It was the Land of +the Living Heart, a tender name which showed that it had become dearer +than the heart of woman, and overtopped all other dreams as the last +hope of the spirit, the bosom where it would rest after it had passed +from the fading shelter of the world. And sure a strange and beautiful +land this Ireland is, with a mystic beauty which closes the eyes of +the body as in sleep, and opens the eyes of the spirit as in dreams and +never a poet has lain on our hillsides but gentle, stately figures, +with hearts shining like the sun, move through his dreams, over radiant +grasses, in an enchanted world of their own: and it has become alive +through every haunted rath and wood and mountain and lake, so that we +can hardly think of it otherwise than as the shadow of the thought of +God. The last Irish poet who has appeared shows the spiritual qualities +of the first, when he writes of the gray rivers in their "enraptured" +wanderings, and when he sees in the jeweled bow which arches the +heavens-- + + The Lord's seven spirits that shine through the rain + +This mystical view of nature, peculiar to but one English poet, +Wordsworth is a national characteristic; and much in the creation of the +Ireland in the mind is already done, and only needs retelling by the new +writers. More important, however, for the literature we are imagining +as an offset to the cosmopolitan ideal would be the creation of heroic +figures, types, whether legendary or taken from history, and enlarged +to epic proportions by our writers, who would use them in common, as +Cuculain, Fionn, Ossian, and Oscar were used by the generations of poets +who have left us the bardic history of Ireland, wherein one would write +of the battle fury of a hero, and another of a moment when his fire +would turn to gentleness, and another of his love for some beauty of his +time, and yet another tell how the rivalry of a spiritual beauty made +him tire of love; and so from iteration and persistent dwelling on a few +heroes, their imaginative images found echoes in life, and other heroes +arose, continuing their tradition of chivalry. + +That such types are of the highest importance, and have the most +ennobling influence on a country, cannot be denied. It was this idea led +Whitman to exploit himself as the typical American. He felt that what +he termed a "stock personality" was needed to elevate and harmonize the +incongruous human elements in the States. English literature has always +been more sympathetic with actual beings than with ideal types, and +cannot help us much. A man who loves Dickens, for example, may grow +to have a great tolerance for the grotesque characters which are the +outcome of the social order in England, but he will not be assisted +in the conception of a higher humanity: and this is true of very many +English writers who lack a fundamental philosophy, and are content to +take man as he seems to be for the moment, rather than as the pilgrim of +eternity--as one who is flesh today but who may hereafter grow divine, +and who may shine at last like the stars of the morning, triumphant +among the sons of God. + +Mr. Standish O'Grady, in his notable epic of Cuculain, was in our time +the first to treat the Celtic tradition worthily. He has contributed one +hero who awaits equal comrades, if indeed the tales of the Red Branch do +not absorb the thoughts of many imaginative writers, and Cuculain remain +the typical hero of the Gael, becoming to every boy who reads the story +a revelation of what his own spirit is. + +I know John Eglinton, one of our most thoughtful writers, our first +cosmopolitan, thinks that "these ancient legends refuse to be taken out +of their old environment." But I believe that the tales which have been +preserved for a hundred generations in the heart of the people must have +had their power, because they had in them a core of eternal truth. Truth +is not a thing of today or tomorrow. Beauty, heroism, and spirituality +do not change like fashion, being the reflection of an unchanging +spirit. The face of faces which looks at us through so many shifting +shadows has never altered the form of its perfection since the face of +man, made after its image, first looked back on its original: + + For these red lips, with all their mournful pride, + Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam, + And Usna's children died. + +These dreams, antiquities, traditions, once actual, living, and +historical, have passed from the world of sense into the world of memory +and thought: and time, it seems to me, has not taken away from their +power, nor made them more remote from sympathy, but has rather purified +them by removing them from earth to heaven: from things which the eye +can see and the ear can hear they have become what the heart ponders +over, and are so much nearer, more familiar, more suitable for literary +use than the day they were begotten. They have now the character of +symbol, and, as symbol, are more potent than history. They have crept +through veil after veil of the manifold nature of man; and now each +dream, heroism, or beauty has laid itself nigh the divine power it +represents, the suggestion of which made it first beloved: and they +are ready for the use of the spirit, a speech of which every word has +a significance beyond itself, and Deirdre is, like Helen, a symbol of +eternal beauty; and Cuculain represents as much as Prometheus the heroic +spirit, the redeemer in man. + +In so far as these ancient traditions live in the memory of man, they +are contemporary to us as much as electrical science: for the images +which time brings now to our senses, before they can be used in +literature, have to enter into exactly the same world of human +imagination as the Celtic traditions live in. And their fitness for +literary use is not there determined by their freshness but by their +power of suggestion. Modern literature, where it is really literature +and not book-making, grows more subjective year after year, and the mind +has a wider range over time than the physical nature has. Many things +live in it--empires which have never crumbled, beauty which has never +perished, love whose fires have never waned: and, in this formidable +competition for use in the artist's mind, today stands only its chance +with a thousand days. To question the historical accuracy of the use of +such memories is not a matter which can be rightly raised. The question +is--do they express lofty things to the soul? If they do they have +justified themselves. + +I have written at some length on the two paths which lie before us, for +we have arrived at a parting of ways. One path leads, and has already +led many Irishmen, to obliterate all nationality from their work. The +other path winds upward to a mountain-top of our own, which may be in +the future the Mecca to which many worshippers will turn. To remain +where we are as a people, indifferent to literature, to art, to ideas, +wasting the precious gift of public spirit we possess so abundantly in +the sordid political rivalries, without practical or ideal ends, is to +justify those who have chosen the other path, and followed another star +than ours. I do not wish any one to infer from this a contempt for those +who, for the last hundred years, have guided public opinion in Ireland. +If they failed in one respect, it was out of a passionate sympathy for +wrongs of which many are memories, thanks to them, and to them is due +the creation of a force which may be turned in other directions, not +without a memory of those pale sleepers to whom we may turn in thought, +placing-- + + A kiss of fire on the dim brow of failure, + A crown upon her uncrowned head. + +1899 + + + + + +STANDISH O'GRADY + + +In this age we read so much that we lay too great a burden on the +imagination. It is unable to create images which are the spiritual +equivalent of the words on the printed page, and reading becomes for too +many an occupation of the eye rather than of the mind. How rarely, out +of the multitude of volumes a man reads in his lifetime, can he remember +where or when he read any particular book, or with any vividness recall +the mood it evoked in him. When I close my eyes, and brood in memory +over the books which most profoundly affected me, I find none excited my +imagination more than Standish O'Grady's epical narrative of Cuculain. +Whitman said of his Leaves of Grass: "Camerado, this is no book. Who +touches this touches a man," and O'Grady might have boasted of his +Bardic History of Ireland, written with his whole being, that there was +more than a man in it, there was the soul of a people, its noblest and +most exalted life symbolized in the story of one heroic character. + +With reference to Ireland, I was at the time I read like many others who +were bereaved of the history of their race. I was as a man who, through +some accident, had lost memory of his past, Who could recall no more +than a few months of new life, and could not say to what songs his +cradle had been rocked, what mother had nursed him, who were the +playmates of childhood, or by what woods and streams he had wandered. +When I read O'Grady I was as such a man who suddenly feels ancient +memories rushing at him, and knows he was born in a royal house, that he +had mixed with the mighty of heaven and earth and had the very noblest +for his companions. It was the memory of race which rose up within me as +I read, and I felt exalted as one who learns he is among the children +of kings. That is what O'Grady did for me and for others who were my +contemporaries, and I welcome the reprints, of his tales in the hope +that he will go on magically recreating for generations yet unborn the +ancestral life of their race in Ireland. For many centuries the youth +of Ireland as it grew up was made aware of the life of bygone ages, and +there were always some who remade themselves in the heroic mould before +they passed on. The sentiment engendered by the Gaelic literature was an +arcane presence, though unconscious of itself, in those who for the +past hundred years had learned another speech. In O'Grady's writings the +submerged river of national culture rose up again, a shining torrent, +and I realized as I bathed in that stream, that the greatest spiritual +evil one nation could inflict on another was to cut off from it the +story of the national soul. For not all music can be played upon any +instrument, and human nature for most of us is like a harp on which can +be rendered the music written for the harp but nor that written for the +violin. The harp strings quiver for the harp-player alone, and he who +can utter his passion through the violin is silent before an unfamiliar +instrument. That is why the Irish have rarely been deeply stirred by +English literature, though it is one of the great literatures of the +world. Our history was different and the evolutionary product was a +peculiarity of character, and the strings of our being vibrate most in +ecstasy when the music evokes ancestral moods or embodies emotions akin +to these. I am not going to argue the comparative worth of the Gaelic +and English tradition. All that I can say is that the traditions of our +own country move us more than the traditions of any other. Even if there +was not essential greatness in them we would love them for the same +reasons which bring back so many exiles to revisit the haunts of +childhood. But there was essential greatness in that neglected bardic +literature which O'Grady was the first to reveal in a noble manner. He +had the spirit of an ancient epic poet. He is a comrade of Homer, his +birth delayed in time perhaps that he might renew for a sophisticated +people the elemental simplicity and hardihood men had when the world +was young and manhood was prized more than any of its parts, more than +thought or beauty or feeling. He has created for us, or rediscovered, +one figure which looms in the imagination as a high comrade of Hector, +Achilles, Ulysses, Rama or Yudisthira, as great in spirit as any. Who +could extol enough his Cuculain, that incarnation of Gaelic chivalry, +the fire and gentleness, the beauty and heroic ardour or the imaginative +splendor of the episodes in his retelling of the ancient story. There +are writers who bewitch you by a magical use of words whose lines +glitter like jewels, whose effects are gained by an elaborate art and +who deal with the subtlest emotions. Others again are simple as an +Egyptian image, and yet are more impressive, and you remember them +less for the sentence than for a grandiose effect. They are not so much +concerned with the art of words as with the creation of great images +informed with magnificence of spirit. They are not lesser artists but +greater, for there is a greater art in the simplification of form in the +statue of Memnon than there is in the intricate detail of a bronze by +Benvenuto Cellini. Standish O'Grady had in his best moments that epic +wholeness and simplicity, and the figure of Cuculain amid his companions +of the Red Branch which he discovered and refashioned for us is, I +think, the greatest spiritual gift any Irishman for centuries has given +to Ireland. + +I know it will be said that this is a scientific age, the world is so +full of necessitous life that it is waste of time for young Ireland to +brood upon tales of legendary heroes, who fought with enchanters, who +harnessed wild fairy horses to magic chariots and who talked with +the ancient gods, and that it would be much better for youth to be +scientific and practical. Do not believe it, dear Irish boy, dear Irish +girl, I know as well as any the economic needs of our people. They must +not be overlooked, but keep still in your hearts some desires which +might enter Paradise. Keep in your souls some images of magnificence +so that hereafter the halls of heaven and the divine folk may not seem +altogether alien to the spirit. These legends have passed the test +of generations for century after century, and they were treasured +and passed on to those who followed, and that was because there was +something in them akin to the immortal spirit. Humanity cannot carry +with it through time the memory of all its deeds and imaginations, and +it burdens itself only in a new era with what was highest among the +imaginations of the ancestors. What is essentially noble is never out +of date. The figures carved by Pheidias for the Parthenon still shine by +the side of the greatest modern sculpture. There has been no evolution +of the human form to a greater beauty than the ancient Greek saw, and +the forms they carved are not strange to us, and if this is true of the +outward form it is true of the indwelling spirit. What is essentially +noble is contemporary with all that is splendid today, and until the +mass of men are equal in spirit the great figures of the past will +affect us less as memories than as prophecies of the Golden Age to which +youth is ever hurrying in its heart. + +O'Grady in his stories of the Red Branch rescued from the past what was +contemporary to the best in us today, and he was equal in his gifts as +a writer to the greatest of his bardic predecessors in Ireland. His +sentences are charged with a heroic energy, and, when he is telling a +great tale, their rise and fall is like the flashing and falling of the +bright sword of some great battle, or like the onset and withdrawal of +Atlantic surges. He can at need be beautifully tender and quiet. Who +that has read his tale of the young Finn and the Seven Ancients will +forget the weeping of Finn over the kindness of the famine-stricken old +men, and their wonder at his weeping, and the self-forgetful pathos +of their meditation unconscious that it was their own sacrifice called +forth the tears of Finn. "Youth," they said, "has many sorrows that cold +age cannot comprehend." + +There are critics repelled by the abounding energy in O'Grady's +sentences. It is easy to point to faults due to excess and abundance, +but how rare in literature is that heroic energy and power. There is +something arcane and elemental in it, a quality that the most careful +stylist cannot attain, however he uses the file, however subtle he is. +O'Grady has noticed this power in the ancient bards and we find it in +his own writing. It ran all through the Bardic History, the Critical +and Philosophical History, and through the political books, The Tory +Democracy and All Ireland. There is this imaginative energy in the tale +of Cuculain, in all its episodes, the slaying of the hound, the capture +of the Liath Macha, the hunting of the enchanted deer, the capture of +the Wild swans, the fight at the ford, and the awakening of the Red +Branch. In the later tale of Red Hugh which, he calls The Flight of +the Eagle there is the same quality of power joined with a shining +simplicity in the narrative which rises into a poetic ecstasy in that +wonderful chapter where Red Hugh, escaping from the Pale, rides through +the Mountain Gates of Ulster and sees high above him Sheve Gullion, +a mountain of the Gods, the birth-place of legend "more mythic than +Avernus"; and O'Grady evokes for us and his hero the legendary past and +the great hill seems to be like Mount Sinai, thronged with immortals, +and it lives and speaks to the fugitive boy, "the last great secular +champion of the Gael," and inspires him for the fulfillment of his +destiny. We might say of Red Hugh, and indeed of all O'Grady's heroes, +that they are the spiritual progeny of Cuculain. From Red Hugh down to +the boys who have such enchanting adventures in Lost on Du Corrig and +The Chain of Gold they have all a natural and hardy purity of mind, a +beautiful simplicity of character, and one can imagine them all in an +hour of need, being faithful to any trust like the darling of the Red +Branch. These shining lads never grew up amid books. They are as much +children of nature as the Lucy of Wordsworth's poetry. It might be said +of them as the poet of the Kalevala sang of himself: "Winds and waters +my instructors." + +These were O'Grady's own earliest companions, and no man can find better +comrades than earth, water, air and sun. I imagine O'Grady's own +youth was not so very different from the youth of Red Hugh before his +captivity; that he lived on the wild and rocky western coast, that he +rowed in coracles, explored the caves, spoke much with hardy natural +people, fishermen and workers on the land, primitive folk, simple in +speech but with that fundamental depth men have who are much in nature +in companionship with the elements, the elder brothers of humanity. It +must have been out of such a boyhood and such intimacies with natural +and unsophisticated people that there came to him the understanding of +the heroes of the Red Branch. How pallid, beside the ruddy chivalry +who pass, huge and fleet and bright, through O'Grady's pages, appear +Tennyson's bloodless Knights of the Round Table, fabricated in the study +to be read in the drawing room, as anemic as Burne Jones' lifeless men +in armour. The heroes of ancient Irish legend reincarnated in the mind +of a man who could breathe into them the fire of life, caught from sun +and wind, their ancient deities, and send them forth to the world to do +greater deeds, to act through many men and speak through many voices. +What sorcery was in the Irish mind that it has taken so many years to +win but a little recognition for this splendid spirit; and that others +who came after him, who diluted the pure fiery wine of romance he gave +us with literary water, should be as well known or more widely read. For +my own, part I can only point back to him and say whatever is Irish +in me he kindled to life, and I am humble when I read his epic tale, +feeling how much greater a thing it is for the soul of a writer to +have been the habitation of a demi-god than to have had the subtlest +intellections. + +We praise the man who rushes into a burning mansion and brings out its +greatest treasure. So ought we to praise this man who rescued from the +perishing Gaelic tradition its darling hero and restored him to us, +and I think now that Cuculain will not perish, and he will be invisibly +present at many a council of youth, and he will be the daring which +lifts the will beyond itself and fires it for great causes, and he will +be also the courtesy which shall overcome the enemy that nothing else +may overcome. + +I am sure that Standish O'Grady would rather I should speak of his work +and its bearing on the spiritual life of Ireland, than about himself, +and, because I think so, in this reverie I have followed no set plan but +have let my thoughts run as they will. But I would not have any to think +that this man was only a writer, or that he could have had the heroes +of the past for spiritual companions, without himself being inspired to +fight dragons and wizardry. I have sometimes regretted that contemporary +politics drew O'Grady away from the work he began so greatly. I have +said to myself he might have given us an Oscar, a Diarmuid or a Caolte, +an equal comrade to Cuculain, but he could not, being lit up by the +spirit of his hero, he merely the bard and not the fighter, and no man +in Ireland intervened in the affairs of his country with a superior +nobility of aim. He was the last champion of the Irish aristocracy, and +still more the voice of conscience for them, and he spoke to them of +their duty to the nation as one might imagine some fearless prophet +speaking to a council of degenerate princes. When the aristocracy failed +Ireland he bade them farewell, and wrote the epitaph of their class in +words whose scorn we almost forget because of their sounding melody +and beauty. He turned his mind to the problems of democracy and more +especially of those workers who are trapped in the city, and he pointed +out for them the way of escape and how they might renew life in the +green fields close to Earth, their ancient mother and nurse. He used +too exalted a language for those to whom he spoke to understand, and it +might seem that all these vehement appeals had failed but that we know +that what is fine never really fails. When a man is in advance of his +age, a generation, unborn when he speaks, is born in due time and finds +in him its inspiration. O'Grady may have failed in his appeal to the +aristocracy of his own time but he may yet create an aristocracy of +character and intellect in Ireland. The political and economic writings +will remain to uplift and inspire and to remind us that the man who +wrote the stories of heroes had a bravery of his own and a wisdom of his +own. I owe so much to Standish O'Grady that I would like to leave it +on record that it was he made me conscious and proud of my country, and +recalled to my mind, that might have wandered otherwise over too wide +and vague a field of thought, to think of the earth under my feet and +the children of our common mother. There hangs in the Municipal Gallery +of Dublin the portrait of a man with melancholy eyes, and scrawled on +the canvas is the subject of his bitter brooding: "'The Lost Land." +I hope that O'Grady will find before he goes back to Tir na noge that +Ireland has found again through him what seemed lost for ever, the law +of its own being, and its memories which go back to the beginning of the +world. + + + + + +THE DRAMATIC TREATMENT OF LEGEND + + + "The Red Branch ought not to be staged.... That + literature ought not to be produced for popular consumption + for the edification of the crowd.... I say to you drop + this thing at your peril.... You may succeed in + degrading Irish ideals, and banishing the soul of the land. + ... Leave the heroic cycles alone, and don't bring them + down to the crowd..." (Standish O'Grady in All Ireland + Review). + +Years ago, in the adventurous youth of his mind, Mr. O'Grady found the +Gaelic tradition like a neglected antique dun with the doors barred, and +there was little or no egress. Listening, he heard from within the hum +of an immense chivalry, and he opened the doors and the wild riders went +forth to work their will. Now he would recall them. But it is in vain. +The wild riders have gone forth, and their labors in the human mind are +only beginning. They will do their deeds over again, and now they +will act through many men and speak through many voices. The spirit of +Cuculain will stand at many a lonely place in the heart, and he will win +as of old against multitudes. The children of Turann will start afresh +still eager to take up and renew their cyclic labors, and they will +gain, not for themselves, the Apples of the Tree of Life, and the Spear +of the Will, and the Fleece which is the immortal body. All the heroes +and demigods returning will have a wider field than Erin for their +deeds, and they will not grow weary warning upon things that die but +will be fighters in the spirit against immortal powers, and, as before, +the acts will be sometimes noble and sometimes base. They cannot be +stayed from their deeds, for they are still in the strength of a youth +which is ever renewing itself. Not for all the wrong which may be done +should they be restrained. Mr. O'Grady would now have the tales kept +from the crowd to be the poetic luxury of a few. Yet would we, for all +the martyrs who perished in the fires of the Middle Ages, counsel the +placing of the Gospels on the list of books to be read only by a few +esoteric worshippers? + +The literature which should be unpublished is that which holds the +secret of the magical powers. The legends of Ireland are not of this +kind. They have no special message to the aristocrat more than to the +man of the people. The men who made the literature of Ireland were by +no means nobly born, and it was the bards who placed the heroes, each +in his rank, and crowned them for after ages, and gave them their famous +names. They have placed on the brow of others a crown which belonged to +themselves, and all the heroic literature of the world was made by +the sacrifice of the nameless kings of men who have given a sceptre to +others they never wielded while living, and who bestowed the powers, of +beauty and pity on women who perhaps had never uplifted a heart in their +day, and who now sway us from the grave with a grace only imagined in +the dreaming soul of the poet. Mr. O'Grady has been the bardic champion +of the ancient Irish aristocracy. He has thrown on them the sunrise +colors of his own brilliant spirit, and now would restrain others from +the use of their names lest a new kingship should be established over +them, and another law than that of his own will, lest the poets of the +democracy looking back on the heroes of the past should overcome them +with the ideas of a later day, and the Atticottic nature find a loftier +spirit in those who felt the unendurable pride of the Fianna and rose +against it. Well, it is only natural he should try to protect the +children of his thought, but they need no later word from him. If +writers of a less noble mind than his deal with these things they will +not rob his heroes of a single power to uplift or inspire. In Greece, +after Eschylus and his stupendous deities, came Sophocles, who +restrained them with a calm wisdom, and Euripides, who made them human, +but still the mysterious Orphic deities remain and stir us when reading +the earlier page. Mr. O'Grady would not have the Red Branch cycle +cast in dramatic form or given to the people. They are too great to be +staged; and he quotes, mistaking the gigantic for the heroic, a story of +Cuculain reeling round Ireland on his fairy steed the Liath Macha. This +may be phantasy or extravagance, but it is not heroism. Cuculain is +often heroic, but it is a quality of the soul and not of the body; it +is shown by his tears over Ferdiad, in his gentleness to women. A more +grandiose and heroic figure than Cuculain was seen on the Athenian +stage; and no one will say that the Titan Prometheus, chained on the +rock in his age-long suffering for men, is not a nobler figure than +Cuculain in any aspect in which he appears to us in the tales. +Divine traditions, the like of which were listened to with awe by the +Athenians, should not be too lofty for our Christian people, whose +morals Mr. O'Grady, here hardly candid, professes to be anxious about. +What is great in literature is a greatness springing out of the human +heart. Though we fall short today of the bodily stature of the giants of +the prime, the spirit still remains and can express an equal greatness. +I can well understand how a man of our own day, by the enlargement of +his spirit, and the passion and sincerity of his speech, could express +the greatness of the past. The drama in its mystical beginning was the +vehicle through which divine ideas, which are beyond the sphere even of +heroic life and passion, were expressed; and if the later Irish writers +fail of such greatness, it is not for that reason that the soul of +Ireland will depart. I can hardly believe Mr. O'Grady to be serious when +he fears that many forbidden subjects will be themes for dramatic art, +that Maeve with her many husbands will walk the stage, and the lusts of +an earlier age be revived to please the lusts of today. The danger of +art is not in its subjects, but in the attitude of the artist's mind. +The nobler influences of art arise, not because heroes are the theme, +but because of noble treatment and the intuition which perceives the +inflexible working out of great moral laws. + +The abysses of human nature may well be sounded if the plummet be +dropped by a spirit from the heights. The lust which leads on to death +may be a terrible thing to contemplate, but in the event there is +consolation; and the eye of faith can see even in the very exultation +of corruption how God the Regenerator is working His will, leading man +onward to his destiny of inevitable beauty. Mr. O'Grady in his youth +had the epic imagination, and I think few people realize how great and +heroic that inspiration was; but the net that is spread for Leviathan +will not capture all the creatures of the deep, and neither epic nor +romance will manifest fully the power of the mythical ancestors of +the modern Gael who now seek incarnation anew in the minds of their +children. Men too often forget, in this age of printed books, that +literature is, after all, only an ineffectual record of speech. The +literary man has gone into strange byways through long contemplation of +books, and he writes with elaboration what could never be spoken, and he +loses that power of the bards on whom tongues of fire had descended, who +were masters of the magic of utterance, whose thoughts were not meant +to be silently absorbed from the lifeless page. For there never can be, +while man lives in a body, a greater means of expression for him than +the voice of man affords, and no instrument of music will ever rival in +power the flowing of the music of the spheres through his lips. In all +its tones, from the chanting of the magi which compelled the elements, +to those gentle voices which guide the dying into peace, there is a +power which will never be stricken from tympan or harp, for in all +speech there is life, and with the greatest speech the deep tones of +another Voice may mingle. Has not the Lord spoken through His prophets? +And man, when he has returned to himself, and to the knowledge of +himself, may find a greater power in his voice than those which he has +painfully harnessed to perform his will, in steamship or railway. It is +through drama alone that the writer can summon, even if vicariously, +so great a power to his aid; and it is possible we yet may hear on the +stage, not merely the mimicry of human speech, but the old forgotten +music which was heard in the duns of great warriors to bow low their +faces in their hands. Dear O'Grady, if we do not succeed it is not for +you to blame us, for our aims are at least as high as your own. + +1902 + + + + + +THE CHARACTER OF HEROIC LITERATURE + + +Lady Gregory, a fairy godmother, has given to Young Ireland the gift of +her Cuchulain of Muirthemne, which should be henceforward the book of +its dream. I do not doubt but there will be a great change in the +next generation, for the character of many children will have grown to +maturity brooding over the memories of heroes who were themselves half +children, half demigods. Though the hero tales will have their greatest +power over the young, no one mind could measure their depth. They seem +simple and primitive, yet they draw us strangely aside from life, and +the emotions they awaken are not simple but complex. Here are twenty +tales, and they are so alike in imaginative character that they seem all +to have poured from one mind; and to these twenty we could add a hundred +others, all endlessly fertile in difference of incident, but all seeming +to own the same imaginative creator. It was so for many centuries, +and then the maker of the song seems to have grown weary, and distinct +voices not overladen with the tradition of the ages were heard; and +today every one wanders in a path of his own, finding or losing the way, +the truth, and the life of art in the free play of his desires. There +was something more to cause this later period of diverse utterance than +the interruption of other races and the claims of the world upon us. +Surely the ancient Egyptian met in Memphis or Thebes as many strangers +as we did, but he wept on through many dynasties carving the same +face of mystery and rarely altering the peculiar forms which were his +inheritance from the craftsmen of a thousand years before. It was not +the introduction of something new, but the loss of something which +finally vexed the calm of the Sphinx and marred the Phidian beauty which +in Greece was a long dream for many generations. It was not because the +Dane or Norman came and dwelt among us that the signature of the Sidhe +was withdrawn from the Gaelic mind. I do not know how to express this +loss otherwise than by saying we appear to have fallen away from our +archetype. We find in all the early stories the presence of one being +who may be the genius of our land if that old idea of race divinities be +a true one. A strange similitude unites all the characters. We infer +an interior identity. The same spirit flashes out in hostile clans, and +then Cuculain kisses Ferdiad. They all confidently appeal to; it in +each other. Maeve flying after the great battle can ask a gift from her +conqueror and obtains it. Fand and Emer dispute who shall make the last +sacrifice of love and give the beloved to a rival. The conflicts seem +half in play or in dream, and we do not know when an awakening of love +will disarm the foes. In spite of the bloodshed the heroes seem like +children who fight steadily through a mock battle, but the night will +see these children at peace, and they will dream with arms around each +other in the same cot. No literature ever had a more beautiful heart of +childhood in it. The bards could hate no one consistently. If they took +away the heroic chivalry from Conchobar in one tale they restored it +to him in another. They have the confident trust--and expectation of +goodness that children have, who may have suffered punishment, but who +come later on and smile on the chastiser. It is this quality which gives +the tales their extraordinary charm. I know no other literature which +has it to the same degree. I do not like to speculate on the absence +of this spirit in our later literature, which was written under other +influences. It cannot be because there was a less spiritual life in +the apostles than in the bards. We cannot compare Cuculain, the most +complete ideal of Gaelic chivalry, with that supreme figure whose coming +to the world was the effacement of whole pantheons of divinities, and +yet it is true that since the thoughts of men were turned from the old +ideals our literature has been filled with a less noble life. I think +a due may be found in the withdrawal of thought from nature, the great +mother who, is the giver of all life, and without whose life ideals +become inoperative and listless dwellers in the heart. The eyes of the +ancient Gael were fixed in wonder on the rocks and hills, and the waste +places of the earth were piled with phantasmal palaces where the Sidhe +sat on their thrones. Everywhere there was life, and as they saw so +they felt. To conceive of nature in any way, as beautiful and living, as +friendly or hostile, is to receive from her in like measure out of +her fullness. With whatever face we approach the mirror a similar face +approaches ours. "Let him approach it, saying, 'This is the Mighty,' +he becomes mighty," says an ancient scripture, teaching us that as +our aspiration is so will be our inspiration and power. Out of this +comradeship with earth there came a commingling of natures, and we do +not know when we read who are the Sidhe and who are human. The great +energies are all in the heroes. They bound to themselves, like the +Talkend, the strength of the fire, the brightness of the sun, and the +swiftness of the wind. They seem truly the earth-born. The waves respond +to their deeds; the elemental creatures respond and there are clashing +echoes and allies innumerable, and armies in the air continuing their +battles illimitably beyond: a proud race, who felt with bursting heart +the heavens were watching them, who defied their gods and exiled them +to have free play for their own deeds. A very different humanity indeed +from those who have come to walk the earth with humility, who are afraid +of heaven and its rulers, and whose dread is the greatest of all sins, +for in it is a denial of their own divinity. Surely the sight heroes is +more welcome to the King, in whose heaven are sworded seraphim, than the +bowed knees and the spirits who make themselves as worms in His sight. +In the symbolic expression of our spiritual life the eagle has become +a dove brooding peace. Oh, that it might rebecome the eagle and take to +the upper airs! + +A generosity and greatness of spirit are in the heroes of the Red +Branch, and out of their strength grows a bloom of beauty never fully +revealed until Lady Gregory compiled these tales. As we read our +eyes are dazzled by strange graces of color flowing over the pages: +everywhere there is mystery and magnificence. Procession's pass by in +Druid ritual, kings and queens, and harpers who look like kings. When +the wind passes over them and stirs their garments a sweetness comes +over the teller of the tale, who felt that delight in draperies blown +over shapely forms which is the inspiration of the Winged Victory and +many Greek marbles. The bards will not have the hands of those proud +people touch anything which is not beautiful. "It was a beautiful +chessboard they had, all of white bronze, and the chessmen of gold and +silver, and a candlestick of precious stones lighting it." The wasting +of time has spared us a few things to show that this rare and intricate +metal work was not a myth, and we are forced by an inexorable logic +to accept as mainly true the narration of the pride, the beauty, the +generosity, and the large lovable character of the ancient heroes. We +may come to realize that, losing their Druid vision of a more shining +world mingling with this, we have lost the vision of that life into the +likeness of which it is the true labor of the spirit to transform this +life. For the Tirnanoge is that Garden where, in the mind of the Lord, +the flowers and trees blossomed before they grew in the fields, where +man lived in the Golden Age before the outer darkness of the earth +was built and he was outcast from Paradise. There is no true art or +literature which has not some image of the Golden Life lurking within +it, and through the archaic rudeness of these legends the light shines +as sunlight through the hoary branches of ancient oaks. Lady Gregory +has done her work, as compiler with a judgment which could hardly be too +much praised, and she has translated the stories into an idiom which +is a reflection of the original Gaelic and is full of charm. We are +indebted to her for this labor as much as to any of those who sang to +sweeten Ireland's wrong. + +1902 + + + + + +A POET OF SHADOWS + + +When I was asked to write "anything" about Yeats, our Irish poet, my +thoughts were like rambling flocks that have no shepherd, and without +guidance my rambling thoughts have run anywhere. + +I confess I have feared to enter or linger too long in the many-colored +land of Druid twilights and tunes. A beauty not our own, more perfect +than we can ourselves conceive, is a danger to the imagination. I am +too often tempted to wander with Usheen in Timanoge and to forget my own +heart and its more rarely accorded vision of truth. I know I like my own +heart best, but I never look into the world of my friend without feeling +that my region lies in the temperate zone and is near the Arctic +circle; the flowers grow more rarely and are paler, and the struggle for +existence is keener. Southward and in the warm west are the Happy Isles +among the Shadowy Waters. The pearly phantoms are dancing there with +blown hair amid cloud tail daffodils. They have known nothing but +beauty, or at the most a beautiful unhappiness. Everything there moves +in procession or according to ritual, and the agony of grief, it is +felt, must be concealed. There are no faces blurred with tears there; +some traditional gesture signifying sorrow is all that is allowed. I +have looked with longing eyes into this world. It is Ildathach, the +Many-Colored Land, but not the Land of the Living Heart. That island +where the multitudinous beatings of many hearts became one is yet +unvisited; but the isle of our poet is the more beautiful of all the +isles the mystic voyagers have found during the thousands of years +literature has recorded in Ireland. What wonder that many wish to follow +him, and already other voices are singing amid its twilights. + +They will make and unmake. They will discover new wonders; and will +perhaps make commonplace some beauty which but for repetition would have +seemed rare. I would that no one but the first discoverer should enter +Ildathach, or at least report of it. No voyage to the new world, however +memorable, will hold us like the voyage of Columbus. I sigh sometimes +thinking on the light dominion dreams have over the heart. We cannot +hold a dream for long, and that early joy of the poet in his new-found +world has passed. It has seemed to him too luxuriant. He seeks for +something more, and has tried to make its tropical tangle orthodox; +and the glimmering waters and winds are no longer beautiful natural +presences, but have become symbolic voices and preach obscurely some +doctrine of their power to quench the light in the soul or to fan it to +a brighter flame. + +I like their old voiceless motion and their natural wandering best, and +would rather roam in the bee-loud glade than under the boughs of beryl +and chrysoberyl, where I am put to school to learn the significance +of every jewel. I like that natural infinity which a prodigal beauty +suggests more than that revealed in esoteric hieroglyphs, even though +the writing be in precious stones. Sometimes I wonder whether that +insatiable desire of the mind for something more than it has yet +attained, which blows the perfume from every flower, and plucks the +flower from every tree, and hews down every tree in the valley until it +goes forth gnawing itself in a last hunger, does not threaten all the +cloudy turrets of the Poet's soul. But whatever end or transformation, +or unveiling may happen, that which creates beauty must have beauty in +its essence, and the soul must cast off many vestures before it comes +to itself. We, all of us, poets, artists, and musicians, who work in +shadows, must sometime begin to work in substance, and why should we +grieve if one labor ends and another begins? I am interested more in +life than in the shadows of life, and as Ildathach grows fainter I await +eagerly the revelation of the real nature of one who has built so +many mansions in the heavens. The poet has concealed himself under the +embroidered cloths and has moved in secretness, and only at rare times, +as when he says, "A pity beyond all telling is hid in the heart of +love," do we find a love which is not the love of the Sidhe; and more +rarely still do recognizable human figures, like the Old Pensioner +or Moll Magee, meet us. All the rest are from another world and +are survivals of the proud and golden races who move with the old +stateliness and an added sorrow for the dark age which breaks in upon +their loveliness. They do not war upon the new age, but build up about +themselves in imagination the ancient beauty, and love with a love a +little colored by the passion of the darkness from which they could not +escape. They are the sole inheritors of many traditions, and have now +come to the end of the ways, and so are unhappy. We know why they are +unhappy, but not the cause of a strange merriment which sometimes +they feel, unless it be that beauty within itself has a joy in its own +rhythmic being. They are changing, too, as the winds and waters have +changed. They are not like Usheen, seekers and romantic wanderers, but +have each found some mood in themselves where all quest ceases; they +utter oracles, and even in the swaying of a hand or the dropping of hair +there is less suggestion of individual action than of a divinity living +within them, shaping an elaborate beauty in dream for his own delight, +and for no other end than the delight in his dream. Other poets have +written of Wisdom overshadowing man and speaking through his lips, or a +Will working within the human will, but I think in this poetry we find +for the first time the revelation of the Spirit as the weaver of beauty. +Hence it comes that little hitherto unnoticed motions are adored: + + You need but lift a pearl-pale hand, + And bind up your long hair and sigh; + And all men's hearts must burn and beat. + +This woman is less the beloved than the priestess of beauty who reveals +the divinity, not as the inspired prophetesses filled with the Holy +Breath did in the ancient mysteries, but in casual gestures and in a +waving of her white arms, in the stillness of her eyes, in her hair +which trembles like a faery flood of unloosed shadowy light over pale +breasts, and in many glimmering motions so beautiful that it is at once +seen whose footfall it is we hear, and that the place where she stands +is holy ground. This, it seems to me, is what is essential in this +poetry, what is peculiar and individual in it--the revelation of +great mysteries in unnoticed things; and as not a sparrow may fall +unconsidered by Him, so even in the swaying of a human hand His sceptre +may have dominion over the heart and His paradise be entered in the +lifting of an eyelid. + +1902 + + + + + +THE BOYHOOD OF A POET + + +When I was a boy I knew another who has since become famous and who has +now written Reveries over Childhood and Youth. I searched the pages to +meet the boy I knew and could not find him. He has told us what he saw +and what he remembered of others, but from himself he seems to have +passed away and remembers himself not. The boy I knew was darkly +beautiful to look on, fiery yet playful and full of lovely and elfin +fancies. He was swift of response, indeed over-generous to the fancies +of others because a nature so charged with beauty could not but emit +beauty at every challenge. Even so water, however ugly the object we +cast upon it, can but break out in a foam of beauty and a bewilderment +of lovely curves. + +Our fancies were in reality nothing to him but the affinities which by +the slightest similitude evoked out of the infinitely richer being +the prodigality of beautiful images with which it was endowed and made +itself conscious of itself. I have often thought how strange it is that +artist and poet have never yet revealed themselves to us except in verse +and painting, that there was among them no psychologist who could turn +back upon himself to search for the law of his own being, who could tell +us how his brain first became illuminated with images, and who tried +to track the inspiration to its secret fount and the images to their +ancestral beauty. Few of the psychologists who have written about +imagination were endowed with it themselves: and here is a poet, the +most imaginative of his generation, who has written about his youth and +has told us only about external circumstances and nothing about himself, +nothing about that flowering of strange beauty in poetry in him where +the Gaelic imagination that had sunk underground when the Gaelic speech +had died, rose up again transfiguring an alien language until that +new poetry became like the record of another mystic voyager to +the Heaven-world of our ancestors. But poet and artist are rarely +self-conscious of the processes of their own minds. They deliver their +message with exultation but they find nothing worth recording in the +descent upon them of the fiery tongues. So our poet has told us little +about himself but much about circumstance, and I recall in his pages the +Dublin of thirty years ago, and note how faithful the memory of eye and +ear are, and how forgetful the heart is of its own fancies. Is nature +behind this distaste for intimate self-analysis in the poet? Are our own +emanations poisonous to us if we do not rapidly clear ourselves of them? +Is it best to forget ourselves and hurry away once the deed is done or +the end is attained to some remoter valley in the Golden World and look +for a new beauty if we would continue to create beauty? + +I know how readily our poet forgets his own songs. I once quoted to him +some early verses of his own as comment on something he had said. He +asked eagerly "Who wrote that?" and when I said "Do you not remember?" +he petulantly waved the poem aside for he had forsaken his past. Again +at a later period he told me his early verses sometimes aroused him to a +frenzy of dislike. Of the feelings which beset the young poet of genius +little or nothing is revealed in this Reverie. Yet what would we not +give for a book which would tell how beauty beset that youth in his +walks about Dublin and Sligo; how the sensitive response to color, form, +music and tradition began, how he came to recognize the moods which +incarnated in him as immortal moods. Perhaps it is too much to expect +from the creative imagination that it shall also be capable of exact and +subtle analysis. In this work I walk down the streets of Dublin I walked +with Yeats over thirty years ago. I mix with the people who then were +living in the city, O'Leary, Taylor, Dowden, Hughes and the rest; but +the poet himself does not walk with me. It is a new voice speaking of +the past of others, pointing out the doorways entered by dead youth. The +new voice has distinction and dignity of its own, and we are grateful +for this history, others more so than myself, because most of what +is written therein I knew already, and I wanted a secret which is not +revealed. I wanted to know more about the working of the imagination +which planted the little snow-white feet in the sally garden, and which +heard the kettle on the hob sing peace into the breast, and was intimate +with twilight and the creatures that move in the dusk and undergrowths, +with weasel, heron, rabbit, hare, mouse and coney; which plucked the +Flower of Immortality in the Island of Statues and wandered with Usheen +in Timanogue. I wanted to know what all that magic-making meant to the +magician, but he has kept his own secret, and I must be content and +grateful to one who has revealed more of beauty than any other in his +time. + +1916 + + + + + +THE POETRY OF JAMES STEPHENS + + +For a generation the Irish bards have endeavored to live in a palace of +art, in chambers hung with the embroidered cloths and made dim with pale +lights and Druid twilights, and the melodies they most sought for were +half soundless. The art of an early age began softly, to end its songs +with a rhetorical blare of sound. The melodies of the new school began +close to the ear and died away in distances of the soul. Even as the +prophet of old was warned to take off his shoes because the place he +stood on was holy ground, so it seemed for a while in Ireland as if no +poet could be accepted unless he left outside the demesnes of poetry +that very useful animal, the body, and lost all concern about its +habits. He could not enter unless he moved with the light and dreamy +foot-fall of spirit. Mr. Yeats was the chief of this eclectic school, +and his poetry at its best is the most beautiful in Irish literature. +But there crowded after him a whole horde of verse-writers, who seized +the most obvious symbols he used and standardized them, and in their +writings one wandered about, gasping for fresh air land sunlight, for +the Celtic soul seemed bound for ever pale lights of fairyland on the +north and by the by the darkness of forbidden passion on the south, and +on the east by the shadowiness of all things human, and on the west by +everything that was infinite, without form, and void. + +It was a great relief to me, personally, who had lived in the palace of +Irish art for a time, and had even contributed a little to its dimness, +to hear outside the walls a few years ago a sturdy voice blaspheming +against all the formula, and violating the tenuous atmosphere with its +"Insurrections." There are poets who cannot write with half their being, +and who must write with their whole being, and they bring their poor +relation, the body, with them wherever they go, and are not ashamed of +it. They are not at warfare with the spirit, but have a kind of instinct +that the clan of human powers ought to cling together as one family. +With the best poets of this school, like Shakespeare and Whitman, +one rarely can separate body and soul, for we feel the whole man is +speaking. With Keats, Shelley, Swinburne, and our own Yeats, one feels +that they have all sought shelter from disagreeable actualities in the +world of imagination. James Stephens, as he chanted his Insurrections, +sang with his whole being. Let no one say I am comparing him with +Shakespeare. One may say the blackbird has wings as well as the eagle, +without insisting that the bird in the hedgerows is peer of the winged +creature beyond the mountain-tops. But how refreshing it was to +find somebody who was a poet without a formula, who did not ransack +dictionaries for dead words, as Rossetti did to get living speech, whose +natural passions declared themselves without the least idea that they +ought to be ashamed of themselves, or be thrice refined in the crucible +by the careful alchemist before they could appear in the drawing-room. +Nature has an art of its own, and the natural emotions in their natural +and passionate expression have that kind of picturesque beauty which +Marcus Aurelius, tired, perhaps, of the severe orthodoxies of Greek and +Roman art, referred to when he spoke of the foam on the jaws of the wild +boar and the mane of the lion. + +There were evidences of such an art in Insurrections, the first book of +James Stephens. In the poem called "Fossils," the girl who flies and the +boy who hunts her are followed in flight and pursuit with a swift energy +by the poet, and the lines pant and gasp, and the figures flare up and +down the pages. The energy created a new form in verse, not an orthodox +beauty, which the classic artists would have admitted, but such +picturesque beauty as Marcus Aurelius found in the foam on the jaws of +the wild boar. + +I always want to find the fundamental emotion out of which a poet +writes. It is easy to do this with some, with writers like Shelley and +Wordsworth, for they talked much of abstract things, and a man never +reveals himself so fully as when he does this, when he tries to +interpret nature, when he has to fill darkness with light, and chaos +with meaning. A man may speak about his own heart and may deceive +himself and others, but ask him to fill empty space with significance, +and what he projects on that screen will be himself, and you can know +him even as hereafter he will be known. When a poet puts his ear to a +shell, I know if he listens long enough he will hear his own destiny. I +knew after reading "The Shell" that in James Stephens we were going to +have no singer of the abstract. There was no human quality or stir in +the blind elemental murmur, and the poet drops it with a sigh of relief: + + O, it was sweet + To hear a cart go jolting down the street. + +From the tradition of the world too he breaks away, from the great +murmuring shell which gives back to us our cries and questionings +and protests soothed into soft, easeful things and smooth orthodox +complacencies, for it was shaped by humanity to whisper back to it +what it wished to hear. From all soft, easeful beliefs and +silken complacencies the last Irish poet breaks away in a book of +insurrections. He is doubtful even of love, the greatest orthodoxy of +any, which so few have questioned, which has preceded all religions and +will survive them all. When he writes of love in "The Red-haired Man's +Wife" and "The Rebel" he is not sure that that old intoxication of +self-surrender is not a wrong to the soul and a disloyalty to the +highest in us. His "Dancer" revolts from the applauding crowd. The +wind cries out against the inference that the beauty of nature points +inevitably to an equal beauty of spirit within. His enemies revolt +against their hate; his old man against his own grumblings, and the poet +himself rebels against his own revolt in that quaint scrap of verse he +prefixes to the volume: + + What's the use + Of my abuse? + The world will run + Around the sun + As it has done + Since time begun + When I have drifted to the deuce: + And what's the use + Of my abuse? + +He does not revolt against the abstract like so many because he is +incapable of thinking. Indeed, he is one of the few Irish poets we have +who is always thinking as he goes along. He does not rebel against love +because he is not himself sweet at heart, for the best thing in the book +is its unfeigned humanity. So we have a personal puzzle to solve with +this perplexing writer which makes us all the more eager to hear him +again. A man might be difficult to understand and the problem of his +personality might not be worth solution, but it is not so with James +Stephens. From a man who can write with such power as he shows in these +two stanzas taken from "The Street behind Yours" we may expect high +things. It is a vision seen with distended imagination as if by some +child strayed from light: + + And though 'tis silent, though no sound + Crawls from the darkness thickly spread, + Yet darkness brings + Grim noiseless things + That walk as they were dead, + They glide and peer and steal around + With stealthy silent tread. + + You dare not walk; that awful crew + Might speak or laugh as you pass by. + Might touch or paw + With a formless claw + Or leer from a sodden eye, + Might whisper awful things they knew, + Or wring their hands and cry. + +There is nothing more grim and powerful than that in The City of +Dreadful Night. It has all the vaporous horror of a Dore grotesque and +will bear examination better. But our poet does not as a rule write with +such unrelieved gloom. He keeps a stoical cheerfulness, and even when +he faces terrible things we feel encouraged to take his hand and go with +him, for he is master of his own soul, and you cannot get a whimper +out of him. He likes the storm of things, and is out for it. He has +a perfect craft in recording wild natural emotions. The verse in this +first book has occasional faults, but as a rule the lines move, driven +by that inner energy of emotion which will sometimes work more metrical +wonders than the most conscious art. The words hiss at you sometimes, +as in "The Dancer," and again will melt away with the delicacy of fairy +bells as in "The Watcher," or will run like deep river water, as in "The +Whisperer," which in some moods I think is the best poem in the book +until I read "Fossils" or "What Tomas an Buile said in a Pub." They are +too long to print, but I must give myself the pleasure of quoting the +beautiful "Slan Leat," with which he concludes the book, bidding us, not +farewell, but to accompany him on further adventure: + + And now, dear heart, the night is closing in, + The lamps are not yet ready, and the gloom + Of this sad winter evening, and the din + The wind makes in the streets fills all the room. + You have listened to my stories--Seumas Beg + Has finished the adventures of his youth, + And no more hopes to find a buried keg + Stuffed to the lid with silver. He, in truth, + And all alas! grew up: but he has found + The path to truer romance, and with you + May easily seek wonders. We are bound + Out to the storm of things, and all is new. + Give me your hand, so, keeping close to me, + Shut tight your eyes, step forward... where are we? + +Our new Irish poet declared he was bound "out to the storm of things," +and we all waited with interest for his next utterance. Would he wear +the red cap as the poet of the social revolution, now long overdue in +these islands, or would he sing the Marsellaise of womanhood, emerging +in hordes from their underground kitchens to make a still greater +revolution? He did neither. He forgot all about the storm of things, and +delighted us with his story of Mary, the charwoman's daughter, a tale of +Dublin life, so, kindly, so humane, so vivid, so wise, so witty, and so +true, that it would not be exaggerating to say that natural humanity in +Ireland found its first worthy chronicler in this tale. + +We have a second volume of poetry from James Stephens, The Hill of +Vision. He has climbed a hill, indeed, but has found cross roads there +leading in many directions, and seems to be a little perplexed whether +the storm of things was his destiny after all. When one is in a cave +there is only one road which leads out, but when one stands in the +sunlight there are endless roads. We enjoy his perplexity, for he has +seated himself by his cross-roads, and has tried many tunes on his lute, +obviously in doubt which sounds sweetest to his own ear. I am not at +all in doubt as to what is best, and I hope he will go on like Whitman, +carrying "the old delicious burdens, men and women," wherever he goes. +For his references to Deity, Plato undoubtedly would have expelled him +from his Republic; and justly so, for James Stephens treats his god very +much as the African savage treats his fetish. Now it is supplicated, +and the next minute the idol is buffeted for an unanswered prayer or a +neglected duty, and then a little later our Irish African is crooning +sweetly with his idol, arranging its domestic affairs and the marriage +of Heaven and Earth. Sometimes our poet essays the pastoral, and in +sheer gaiety: flies like any bird under the boughs, and up into the +sunlight. There are in his company imps and grotesques, and fauns and +satyrs, who come summoned by his piping. Sometimes, as in "Eve," the +poem of the mystery of womanhood, he is purely beautiful, but I find +myself going back to his men and women; and I hope he will not be angry +with me when I say I prefer his tinker drunken to his Deity sober. None +of our Irish poets has found God, at least a god any but themselves +would not be ashamed to acknowledge. But our poet does know his men +and his women. They are not the shadowy, Whistler-like decorative +suggestions of humanity made by our poetic dramatists. They have entered +like living creatures into his mind, and they break out there in an +instant's unforgettable passion or agony, and the wild words fly up +to the poet's brain to match their emotion. I do not know whether the +verses entitled "The Brute" are poetry, but they have an amazing energy +of expression. + +But our poet can be beautiful when he wills, and sometimes, too, he has +largeness and grandeur of vision and expression. Look at this picture of +the earth, seen from mid-heaven: + + And so he looked to where the earth, asleep, + Rocked with the moon. He saw the whirling sea + Swing round the world in surgent energy, + Tangling the moonlight in its netted foam, + And nearer saw the white and fretted dome + Of the ice-capped pole spin back a larded ray + To whistling stars, bright as a wizard's day, + But these he passed with eyes intently wide, + Till closer still the mountains he espied, + Squatting tremendous on the broad-backed earth, + Each nursing twenty rivers at a birth. + +I would like to quote the verses entitled "Shame." Never have I read +anywhere such an anguished cowering before Conscience, a mighty creature +full of eyes within and without, and pointing fingers and asped tongues, +anticipating in secret the blazing condemnation of the world. And there +is "Bessie Bobtail," staggering down the streets with her reiterated, +inarticulate expression of grief, moving like one of those wretched whom +Blake described in a marvelous phrase as "drunken with woe forgotten"; +and there is "Satan," where the reconcilement of light and darkness in +the twilights of time is perfectly and imaginatively expressed. + +The Hill of Vision is a very unequal book. There are many verses full +of power, which move with the free easy motion of the literary athlete. +Others betray awkwardness, and stumble as if the writer had stepped too +suddenly into the sunlight of his power, and was dazed and bewildered. +There is some diffusion of his faculties in what I feel are byways of +his mind, but the main current of his energies will, I am convinced, +urge him on to his inevitable portrayal of humanity. With writers like +Synge and Stephens the Celtic imagination is leaving its Timanoges, its +Ildathachs, its Many Colored Lands and impersonal moods, and is coming +down to earth intent on vigorous life and individual humanity. I can see +that there are great tales to be told and great songs to be sung, and I +watch the doings of the new-comers with sympathy, all the while feeling +I am somewhat remote from their world, for I belong to an earlier day, +and listen to these robust songs somewhat as a ghost who hears the cock +crow, and knows his hours are over, and he and his tribe must disappear +into tradition. + +1912 + + + + + +A NOTE ON SEUMAS O'SULLIVAN + + +As I grow older I get more songless. I am now exiled irrevocably from +the Country of the Young, but I hope I can listen without jealousy and +even with delight to those who still make music in the enchanted land. I +often searched in the "Poet's Corner" of the country papers with a +wild surmise that there, amid reports of Boards of Guardians and Rural +Councils, some poetic young kinsman may be taking council with the +stars, watching more closely the Plough in the furrows of the heavens +than the county instructor at his task of making farmers drive the +plough straight in the fields. I found many years ago in a country paper +a local poet making genuine music. I remember a line: + + And hidden rivers were murmuring in the dark. + + I went on in the strength of this poem through the desert +of country journalism for many years, hoping to find more hidden rivers +of song murmuring in the darkness. It was a patient life of unrequited +toil, and I have returned to civilization to search publishers' lists +for more easily procurable pleasure. A few years ago I mined out of the +still darker region of manuscripts some poetic crystals which I thought +were valuable, and edited New Songs. Nearly all my young singers have +since then taken flight on their own account. Some have volumes in the +booksellers and some in the hands of the printers. But there is one +shy singer of the group of writers in New Songs who might easily get +overlooked because his verse takes little or no thought of the past +or present or future of his country: yet the slim book in which is +collected Seumas O'Sullivan's verses reveals a true poet, and if he is +too shy to claim his country in his verses there is no reason why his +country should not claim him, for he is in his way as Irish as any of +our singers. He is, as Mr. W. B. Yeats was in his earlier days, the +literary successor of those old Gaelic poets who were fastidious in +their verse, who loved little in this world but some chance light in it +which reminded them of fairyland, or who, if they were in love, loved +their mistress less for her own sake than because some turn of her head, +or "a foam-pale breast," carried their impetuous imaginations past her +beauty into memories of Helen of Troy, Deirdre, or some other symbol +of that remote and perfect beauty which, however man desires, he shall +embrace only at the end of time. I think the wives or mistresses of +these old poets must have been very unhappy, for women wish to be loved +for what they know about themselves, and for the tenderness which is in +their hearts, and not because some colored twilight invests them with a +shadowy beauty not their own, and which they know they can never +carry into the light of day. These poets of the transient look and the +evanescent light do not help us to live our daily life, but they do +something which is as necessary. They educate and refine the spirit so +that it shall not come altogether without any understanding of delicate +loveliness into the Kingdom of Heaven, or gaze on Timanoge with the +crude blank misunderstanding of Cockney tourists staring up at the +stupendous dreams pictured on the roof of the Sistine Chapel. These +fastidious scorners of every day and its interests are always looking +through nature for "the herbs before they were in the field and every +flower before it grew," and through women for the Eve who was in the +imagination of the Lord before she was embodied, and we all need this +refining vision more than we know. It may be asked of us hereafter when +we would mount up into the towers of vision, "How can you desire the +beauty you have not seen, who have not sought or loved its shadow in +the world?" and the Gates of Ivory may not swing open at our knock. This +will never be said to Seumas O'Sullivan, who is always waiting on +the transient look and the evanescent light to build up out of their +remembered beauty the Kingdom of his Heaven: + + Round you light tresses, delicate, + Wind blown, wander and climb + Immortal, transitory. + +Earth has no steady beauty as the calm-eyed immortals have, but their +image glimmers on the waves of time, and out of what instantly vanishes +we can build up something within us which may yet grow into a calm-eyed +immortality of loveliness, we becoming gradually what we dream of. I +have heard people complain of the frailty of these verses of Seumas +O'Sullivan. They want war songs, plough songs, to nerve the soul to +fight or the hand to do its work. I will never make that complaint. I +will only complain if the strife or the work ever blunt my senses so +that I will pass by with an impatient disdain these delicate snatchings +at a beauty which is ever fleeting. But I would ask him to remember that +life never allures us twice with exactly the same enchantment. Never +again will that tress drift like a woven wind made visible out of +Paradise; never again will that lifted hand, foam-pale, seem like the +springing up of beauty in the world; never a second time will that white +brow remind him of the wonderful white towers of the city of the +gods. To seek a second inspiration is to receive only a second-rate +inspiration, and our poet is a little too fond of lingering in his verse +round a few things, a face, the swaying poplars, or sighing reeds which +had once piped an alluring music in his ears, and which he longs to hear +again. He lives not in too frail a world, but in too narrow a world, and +he should adventure out into new worlds in the old quest. He, has become +a master of delicate and musical rhythms. I remember reading Seumas +O'Sulivan's first manuscripts with mingled pleasure and horror, for his +lines often ran anyhow, and scansion seemed to him an unknown art, but I +feel humbly now that he can get a subtle quality into his music which I +could not hope to acquire. I would like him to catch some new and rare +birds with that subtle net of his, and to begin to invent more beauty +of his own and to seek for it less. I believe he has got it in him to +do well, to do better than he has done if he will now try to use his +invention more. The poems with a slight narrative in them, like "The +Portent" or the "Saint Anthony," seem to me the most perfect, and it is +in this direction, I think, he will succeed best. He wants a story to +keep him from beating musical and ineffective wings in the void. I have +not said half what I want to say about Seumas O'Sullivan's verses, but +I know the world will not listen long to the musings of one verse-writer +on another. I only hope this note may send some readers to their +bookseller for Seumas O'Sullivan's poems, and that it may help them to +study with more understanding a mind that I love. + +1909 + + + + + +ART AND LITERATURE + + + +A LECTURE ON THE ART OF G. F. WATTS + + +After the publication of The Gentle Art of Making Enemies the writer who +ventures to speak of art and literature in the same breath needs +some courage. Since the death of Whistler, his opinions about the +independence of art from the moral ideas with which literature is +preoccupied have been generally accepted in the studios. The artist +who is praised by a literary man would hardly be human if he was not +pleased; but he listens with impatience to any criticism or suggestion +about the substance of his art or the form it should take. I had a +friend, an artist of genius, and when we were both young we argued +together about art on equal terms. It had not then occurred to him that +any intelligence I might have displayed in writing verse did not entitle +me to an opinion about modeling; but one day I found him reading Mr. +Whistler's Ten O'clock. The revolt of art against literature had reached +Ireland. After that, while we were still good friends, he made me feel +that I was an outsider, and when I ventured to plead for a national +character in sculpture, his righteous anger--I might say his +ferocity--forced me to talk of something else. + +I was not convinced he was right, but years after I began to use the +brush a little, and I remember painting a twilight from love of some +strange colors and harmonious lines, and when one of my literary friends +found that its interest depended on color and form, and that the idea +in it could not readily be translated into words, and that it left +him wishing that I would illustrate my poems or something that had a +meaning, I veered round at once and understood Whistler, and how foolish +I was to argue with John Hughes. I joined in the general insurrection +of art against the domination of literature. But being a writer and +much concerned with abstract ideas, I have never had the comfort and +happiness of those who embrace this opinion with their whole being, and +when I was asked to lecture, I thought that as I had no Irish Whistler +to fear, I might speak of art in relation to these universal ideas which +artists hold are for literature and not subject matter for art at all. + +I must first say it was not my wish to speak. With a world of noble and +immortal forms all about us, it seemed to me as unfitting that words +without art or long labor in their making should be advertised as an +attraction; that any one should be expected to sit here for an hour to +listen to me or another upon a genius which speaks for itself. I was +overruled by Mr. Lane. But it is all wrong, this desire to hear and hold +opinions about art rather than to be moved by the art itself. I know +twenty charlatans who will talk about art, but never lift their eyes +to look at the pictures on the wall. I remember an Irish poet speaking +about art a whole evening in a room hung round with pictures by +Constable, Monet, and others, and he came into that room and went out +of it without looking at those pictures. His interest in art was in the +holding of opinions about it, and in hearing other opinions, which +he could again talk about. I hope I have made some of you feel +uncomfortable. This may, perhaps, seem malicious, but it is necessary to +release artists from the dogmas of critics who are not artists. + +I would not venture to speak here tonight if I thought that anything +I said could be laid hold of and be turned into a formula, and used +afterwards to torment some unfortunate artist. An artist will take +with readiness advice or criticism from a fellow-artist, so far as +his natural vanity permits; but he writhes under opinions derived from +Ruskin or Tolstoi, the great theorists. You may ask indignantly, Can no +one, then, speak about paintings or statues except painters or +modelers? No; no one would condemn you to such painful silence and +self-suppression. Artists would wish you to talk unceasingly about +the emotions their pain of making pictures arouse in you; but, under +lifelong enemies, do not suggest to artists the theories under which +they should paint. That is hitting below the belt. The poor artist is as +God made him; and no one, not even a Tolstoi, is competent to undertake +his re-creation. His fellow-artists will pass on to him the tradition of +using the brush. He may use it well or ill; but when you ask him to use +his art to illustrate literary ideas, or ethical ideas, you are asking +him to become a literary man or a preacher. The other arts have their +obvious limitations. The literary man does not dare to demand of the +musician that he shall be scientific or moral. The latter is safe +in uttering every kind of profanity in sound so long as it is music. +Musicians have their art to themselves. But the artist is tormented, and +asked to reflect the thought of his time. Beauty is primarily what he +is concerned with; and the only moral ideas which he can impart in a +satisfactory way are the moral ideas naturally associated with beauty in +its higher or lower forms. But I think, some of you are confuting me in +your own minds at this moment. You say to yourselves: "But we have all +about us the works of great artists whose inspiration not one will deny. +He used his art to express great ethical ideas. He spoke again and again +about these ideas. He was proud that his art was dedicated to their +expression." I am sorry to say that he did say many things which would +have endeared him to Tolstoi and Ruskin, and for which I respect him +as a man, and which as an artist I deplore. I deplore his speaking of +ethical ideas as the inspiration of his art, because I think they were +only the inspiration of his life; and where he is weakest in his appeal +as an artist is where he summons consciously to his aid ethical ideas +which find their proper expression in religion or literature or life. + +Watts wished to ennoble art by summoning to its aid the highest +conceptions of literature; but in doing so he seems to me to imply that +art needed such conceptions for its justification, that the pure artist +mind, careless of these ideas, and only careful to make for itself +a beautiful vision of things, was in a lower plane, and had a less +spiritual message. Now that I deny. I deny absolutely that art needs to +call to its aid, in order to justify or ennoble it, any abstract ideas +about love or justice or mercy. + +It may express none of these ideas, and yet express truths of its own +as high and as essential to the being of man; and it is in spite of +himself, in spite of his theories, that the work of Watts will have +an enduring place in the history of art. You will ask then, "Can art +express no moral ideas? Is it unmoral?" In the definite and restricted +sense in which the words "ethical" and "moral" are generally used, art +is, and must by its nature be unmoral. I do not mean "immoral," and let +no one represent me as saying art must be immoral by its very nature. +There are dear newspaper men to whom it would be a delight to attribute +to me such a saying; and never to let me forget that I said it. When I +say that art is essentially unmoral, I mean that the first impulse to +paint comes from something seen, either beauty of color or form or tone. +It may be light which attracts the artist, or it may be some dimming of +natural forms, until they seem to have more of the loveliness of mind +than of nature. But it is the aesthetic, not the moral or ethical, +nature which is stirred. The picture may afterwards be called "Charity," +or "Faith," or "Hope"--and any of these words may make an apt title. But +what looms up before the vision of the artist first of all is an image, +and that is accepted on account of its fitness for a picture; and an +image which was not pictorial would be rejected at once by any true +artist, whether it was an illustration of the noblest moral conception +or not. Whether a picture is moral or immoral will depend upon +the character of the artist, and not upon the subject. A man will +communicate his character in everything he touches. He cannot escape +communicating it. He must be content with that silent witness, and not +try to let the virtues shout out from his pictures. The fact is, art is +essentially a spiritual thing, and its vision is perpetually turned +to Ultimates. It is indefinable as spirit is. It perceives in life and +nature those indefinable relations of one thing to another which to the +religious thinker suggest a master mind in nature--a magician of +the beautiful at work from hour to hour, from moment to moment, in a +never-ceasing and solemn chariot motion in the heavens, in the perpetual +and marvelous breathing forth of winds, in the motion of waters, and in +the unending evolution of gay and delicate forms of leaf and wing. + +The artist may be no philosopher, no mystic; he may be with or without a +moral sense, he may not believe in more than his eye can see; but in so +far as he can shape clay into beautiful and moving forms he is imitating +Deity; when his eye has caught with delight some subtle relation between +color and color there is mysticism in his vision. I am not concerned +here to prove that there is a spirit in nature or humanity; but for +those who ask from art a serious message, here, I say, is a way of +receiving from art an inspiration the most profound that man can +receive. When you ask from the artist that he should teach you, +be careful that you are not asking him to be obvious, to utter +platitudes--that you are not asking him to debase his art to make things +easy for you, who are too indolent to climb to the mountain, but want +it brought to your feet. There are people who pass by a nocturne by +Whistler, a misty twilight by Corot, and who whisper solemnly before a +Noel Paton as if they were in a Cathedral. Is God, then, only present +when His Name is uttered? When we call a figure Time or Death, does +it add dignity to it? What is the real inspiration we derive from that +noble design by Mr. Watts? Not the comprehension of Time, not the nature +of Death, but a revelation human form can express of the heroic dignity. +Is it not more to us to know that man or woman can look half-divine, +that they can wear an aspect such as we imagine belongs to the +immortals, and to feel that if man is made in the image of his Creator, +his Creator is the archetype of no ignoble thing? There were immortal +powers in Watts' mind when those figures surged up in it; but they were +neither Time nor Death. He was rather near to his own archetype, and in +that mood in which Emerson was when he said, "I the imperfect adore +my own perfect." Touch by touch, as the picture was built up, he was +becoming conscious of some interior majesty in his own nature, and +it was for himself more than for us he worked. "The oration is to the +orator," says Whitman, "and comes most back to him." The artist, too, as +he creates a beautiful form outside himself, creates within himself, +or admits to his being a nobler beauty than his eyes have seen. His +inspiration is spiritual in its origin, and there is always in it some +strange story of the glory of the King. + +With man and his work we must take either a spiritual or a material +point of view. All half-way beliefs are temporary and illogical. I +prefer the spiritual with its admission of incalculable mystery and +romance in nature, where we find the infinite folded in the atom, and +feel how in the unconscious result and labor of man's hand the Eternal +is working Its will. You may say that this belongs more to psychology +than to art criticism, but I am trying to make clear to you and to +myself the relation which the mind which is in literature may rightly +bear to the vision which is art. Are literature and ethics to dictate +to Art its subjects? Is it right to demand that the artist's work shall +have an obviously intelligible message or meaning, which the intellect +can abstract from it and relate to the conduct of life? My belief is +that the most literature can do is to help to interpret art, and that +art offers to it, as nature does, a vision of beauty, but of undefined +significance. + +No one asks or expects the clouds to shape themselves into ethical +forms, or the sun to shine only on the just and not on the unjust +also. It is vain to expect it, but there is something written about the +heavens declaring the beauty of the Creator and the firmament showing +His handiwork. If the artist can bring whatever of that vision has +touched him into his work we should ask no more, and must not expect him +to be more righteously minded than his Creator, or to add a finishing +tag of moral to justify it all, to show that Deity is solemnly minded +and no mere idle trifler with beauty like Whistler. + +I have stated my belief that art is spiritual, that its genuine +inspirations come from a higher plane of our being than the ethical +or intellectual; and I think wherever literature or ethics have so +dominated the mind of the artist that they change the form of his +inspiration, his art loses its own peculiar power and gains nothing. We +have here a picture of "Love steering the bark of Humanity." I may put +it rather crudely when I say that pictures like this are supposed to +exert a power on the man who, for example, would beat his wife, so that +love will be his after inspiration. Anyhow, ethical pictures are painted +with some such intention belief. Now, art has great influence, but I do +not believe this or any other picture would stop a man beating his wife +if he wanted to. Art does not call sinners to repentance; that is not +one of its powers. It fulfils rather another saying: "Unto them that +have much shall be given," bringing delight to those that are already +sensitive to beauty. My own conviction is that ethical pictures are, +if anything, immoral in their influence, as everything must be that +forsakes the law of its own being, and that pictures like this only add +to the vanity of people so righteously minded as to be aware of their +own virtue. We will always have these concessions to passing phases of +thought. We have had requests for the scientific painter--the man who +will paint nature with geological accuracy, and man in accordance +with evolutionary dogmas. He will find his eloquent literary defenders +enchanted to find so much learning to point to in his work, but it will +all pass. The true artist will still be instinctively spiritual. + +Now I have used the word "spiritual" so often in connection with art +that you may reasonably ask for some definition of my meaning. I am +afraid it is easier to define spirituality in literature than in art. +But a literary definition may help. Spirituality is the power certain +minds have of apprehending formless spiritual essences, of seeing the +eternal in the transitory, of relating the particular to the universal, +the type to the archetype. + +While I give this definition, I hope no artist will ever be insane +enough to make it the guiding principle of his art. I shudder to +think of any conscious attempt in a picture to relate the type to the +archetype. It is a philosophical definition, solely intended for the +spectator. I wish the artist only to paint his vision, and whether +he paints this, or another world he imagines, if it is art it will be +spiritual. I have given a definition of spirituality in literature, but +how now relate it to art? How illustrate its presence? When Pater wrote +his famous description of the Mona Lisa, that intense and enigmatic face +had evoked a spiritual mood. When he saw in it the summed-up experience +of many generations of humanity, he felt in the picture that relation +of the particular to the universal I have spoken of. When we find human +forms suggesting a superhuman dignity, as in Watts' figures of Time and +Death, or in the Phidian marbles, the type is there melting into the +archetype. When Millet paints a peasant figure of today with some +gesture we imagine the first Sower must have used, it is the eternal +in it which makes the transitory impressive. But these are obvious +instances, you will say, chosen from artists whose pictures lend +themselves to this kind of exposition. What about the art of the +landscape painter? Undeniably a form of art, where is the spirituality? + +I am afraid my intellect is not equal to talking up every picture that +might be suggested and using it to illustrate my meaning, though I do +not think I would despair of finally discovering the spiritual element +in any picture I felt was art. However, I will go further. We have all +felt some element of art lacking in the painter who goes to Killarney, +Italy, or Switzerland, and brings us back a faithful representation of +undeniably beautiful places. It is all there--the lofty mountains, the +lakes, the local color; but what enchanted us in nature does not touch +us in the picture. What we want is the spirit of the place evoked in us +rather than the place itself. Art is neither pictured botany or geology. +A great landscape is the expression of a mood of the human mind as +definitely as music or poetry is. The artist is communicating his own +emotions. There is some mystic significance in the color he employs; and +then the doorways are opened, and we pass from sense into soul. We +are looking into a soul when we are looking at a Turner, a Carot, or a +Whistler, as surely as when in dream we find ourselves moving in strange +countries which are yet within us, contained for all their seeming +infinitudes in the little hollow of the brain. All this, I think, is +undeniable; but perhaps not many of you will follow me, though you +may understand me, if I go further and say, that in this, art is +unconsciously also reaching out to archetypes, is lifting itself up to +walk in that garden of the divine mind where, as the first Scripture +says, it created "flowers before they were in the field and every herb +before it grew." A man may sit in an armchair and travel farther than +ever Columbus traveled; and no one can say how far Turner, in his search +after light, had not journeyed into the lost Eden, and he himself may +have been there most surely at the last when his pictures had become a +blaze of incoherent light. + +You may say now that I have objected to literature dominating the arts, +and yet I have drawn from pictures a most complicated theory. I have +felt a little, indeed, as if I was marching through subtleties to +the dismemberment of my mind, but I do not think I have anywhere +contradicted myself or suggested that an artist should work on these +speculations. These may rightly arise in the mind of the onlooker who +will regard a work of art with his whole nature, not merely with the +aesthetic sense, and who will naturally pass from the first delight +of vision into a psychological analysis. A profound nature will always +awaken profound reflections. There are heads by Da Vinci as interesting +in their humanity as Hamlet. When we see eyes that tempt and allure with +lips virginal in their purity, we feel in the face a union of things +which the dual nature of man is eternally desiring. It is the marriage +of heaven and hell, the union of spirit and flesh, each with their +uncurbed desires; and what is impossible in life is in his art, and is +one of the secrets of its strange fascination. It may seem paradoxical +to say of Watts--a man of genius, who was always preaching through his +art--that it is very difficult to find what he really expresses. No +one is ever for a moment in doubt about what is expressed by Rossetti, +Turner, Millet, Corot, or many contemporary artists who never preached +at all, but whose mood or vision peculiar to themselves is easily +definable. With Watts the effort at analyses is confused: first by his +own statement about the ethical significance of his works, which I think +misleading, because while we may come away from his pictures with many +feelings of majesty or beauty or mystery, the ethical spirit is not +the predominant one. That rapturous winged spirit which he calls Love +Triumphant might just as easily be called Music or Song, and another +allegory be attached to it without our feeling any more special fitness +or unfitness in the explanation. I see a beautiful exultant figure, but +I do not feel love as the fundamental mood in the painter, as I feel the +religious mood is fundamental in the Angelus of Millet. I do not need to +look for a title to that or for the painting of The Shepherdess to feel +how earth and her children have become one in the vision of the painter; +that the shepherdess is not the subject, nor the sheep, nor the still +evening, but altogether are one mood, one being, in which all things +move in harmony and are guided by the Great Shepherd. Well, I do not +feel that Love; or Charity, or Hope are expressed in this way in Watts, +and that the ethical spirit is not fundamental with him as the religious +spirit is with Millet. He has an intellectual conception of his moral +idea, but is not emotionally obsessed by it, and the basis of a man's +art is not to be found in his intellectual conceptions, which are light +things, but in his character or rather in his temperament. We know, for +all the poetical circumstances of Rossetti's pictures, what desire it is +that shines out of those ardent faces, and how with Leighton "the form +alone is eloquent," and that Tumer's God was light as surely as with any +Persian worshipper of the sun. Here and there they may have been tempted +otherwise, but they never strayed far from their temperamental way of +expressing themselves in art. So that the first thing to be dismissed +in trying to understand Watts is Watts' own view of his art and its +inspiration. He is not the first distinguished man whose intellect has +not proved equal to explaining rightly its sources of power. Our next +difficulty in discovering the real Watts arises because he did not look +at nature or life directly. He was overcome by great traditions. He +almost persistently looks at nature through one or two veils. There is +a Phidian veil and a Venetian or rather an Italian veil, and almost +everything in life and nature which could not be expressed in terms of +these traditions he ignored. I might say that no artist of equal genius +ever painted pictures and brought so little fresh observation into his +art except, perhaps, Burne-Jones. Both these artists seem to have a +secret and refined sympathy with Fuseli's famous outburst, "Damn Nature, +she always puts me out!" Even when the sitter came, Watts seems to have +been uneasy unless he could turn him into a Venetian nobleman or person +of the Middle Ages, or could disguise in some way the fact that Artist +and Sitter belonged to the nineteenth century. He does not seem to be +aware that people must breathe even in pictures. His skies rest solidly +on the shoulders of his figures as if they were cut out to let the +figures be inserted. If he were not a man of genius there would have +been an end of him. But he was a man of genius, and we must try to +understand the meaning of his acceptance of tradition. If we understand +it in Watts we will understand a great deal of contemporary art and +literature which is called derivative, art issuing out of art, and +literature out of literature. + +The fact is that this kind of art in which Watts and Burne-Jones were +pioneers is an art which has not yet come to its culmination or to any +perfect expression of itself. There is a genuinely individual impulse in +it, and it is not derivative merely, although almost every phase of +it can be related to earlier art. It has nothing in common with the +so-called grand school of painting which produced worthless imitations +of Michael Angelo and Raphael. It is feeling out for a new world, and it +is trying to use the older tradition as a bridge. The older art held up +a mirror to natural forms and brought them nearer to man. In the perfect +culmination of this new art one feels how a complete change might take +place and natural forms be used to express an internal nature or the +soul of the artist. Colors and forms, like words after the lapse of +centuries, enlarge their significance. The earliest art was probably +simple and literal--there may have been the outline of a figure filled +up with some flat color. Then as art became more complex, colors began +to have an emotional meaning quite apart from their original relation +to an object. The artist begins unconsciously to relate color more +intimately to his own temperament than to external nature. At last, +after the lapse of ages, some sensitive artist begins to imagine that +he has discovered a complete language capable of expressing any mood +of mind. The passing of centuries has enriched every color, and left +it related to some new phase of the soul. Phidian or Michael Angelesque +forms gather their own peculiar associations of divinity or power. In +fact, this new art uses the forms of the old as symbols or hieroglyphs +to express more complicated ideas than the older artists tried to +depict. + +Watts never attempted, for all his admiration of these men, to +follow them in their efforts to realize perfectly the forms that they +conceived. They had done this once and for all, and repetition may have +seemed unnecessary. But the lofty temper awakened by those stupendous +creations could be aroused by a suggestion of their peculiar +characteristics. Association of ideas will in some subtle way bring us +back to the Phidian demigods when we look at forms and draperies +vaguely suggestive of the Parthenon. I do not say that Watt's did this +consciously, but instinctively he felt compelled, with the gradual +development of his own mind, to use the imaginative traditions created +by other artists as a language through which he might find expression +peculiar to himself. It is a highly intellectual art to which tradition +was a necessity, as much as it is to the poet, who when he speaks of +"beauty" draws upon a sentiment created by millions of long-dead lovers, +or who, when he thinks of the "spirit," is, in his use of the word, the +heir of countless generations who brooded upon the mysteries. + +Just as in Millet, the painter of peasants, there was a religious spirit +shaping all things into austere and elemental simplicities, so in Watts +there was an intellectual spirit, seeking everywhere for the traces of +mind trying to express the bodiless and abstract. With Whitman he seems +to cry out, "The soul for ever and ever!" It is there in the astonishing +head of Swinburne, whom he reveals, if I may use a vulgar phrase, as a +poetic "bounder," but illuminated and etherealized by genius. It is in +the head of Mill, the very symbol of the moral reasoning--mind. It is in +the face of Tennyson, with its too self-conscious seership, and in +all those vague faces of the imaginative paintings, into which, to use +Pater's phrase, "the soul with all its maladies has passed." In his +pictures he draws on the effects of earlier art, and throws his sitters +back until they seem to belong to some nondescript mediaeval country, +like the Bohemia of the dramatists; and he darkens and shuts out the +light of day that this starlight of soul may be more clearly seen, and +destroys, as far as he can, all traces of the century they live in, for +the mind lives in all the ages, and he would show it as the pilgrim of +eternity. Because Watts' art was necessarily so brooding and meditative, +looking at life with half-closed eyes and then shutting them to be alone +with memory and the interpreter, his painting, so beautiful and full +of surety in early pictures like the Wounded Heron, grows to be often +labored and muddy, and his drawing uncertain. That he could draw and +paint with the greatest, he every now and then gave proof; but the +surety of beautiful craftsmanship deserts those who have not always +their eye fixed on an object of vision; and Watts was not, like Blake +or Shelley, one of the proud seers whose visions are of "forms more real +than living man." He seemed to feel what his effects should be rather +than to see them, or else his vision was fleeting and his art was a +laborious brooding to recapture the lost impression. In his color he +always seems to me to be second-hand, as if the bloom and freshness of +his paint had worn off through previous use by other artists. It +seemed to be a necessity of his curiously intellectual art that only +traditional colors and forms should be employed, and it is only rarely +we get the shock of a new creation, and absolutely original design, as +in Orpheus, where the passionate figure turns to hold what is already a +vanishing shadow. + +Watts' art was an effort to invest his own age, an age of reason, with +the nobilities engendered in an age of faith. At the time Watts was +at his prime his contemporaries were everywhere losing belief in +the spiritual conceptions of earlier periods; they were analyzing +everything, and were deciding that what was really true in religion, +what gave it nobility, was its ethical teaching; retain that, and +religion might go, illustrating the truth of the Chinese philosopher +who said: "When the spirit is lost, men follow after charity and duty +to one's neighbors." The unity of belief was broken up into diverse +intellectual conceptions. Men talked about love and liberty, patriotism, +duty, charity, and a whole host of abstractions moral and intellectual, +which they had convinced themselves were the essence of religion and +the real cause of its power over man. Whether Watts lost faith like his +contemporaries I do not know, but their spirit infected his art. He set +himself to paint these abstractions; and because we cannot imagine these +abstractions with a form, we feel something fundamentally false in this +side of his art. He who paints a man, an angelic being, or a divine +being, paints something we feel may have life. But it is impossible +to imagine Time with a body as it is to imagine a painting embodying +Newton's law of gravitation. It is because such abstractions do not +readily take shape that Watts drew so much on the imaginative tradition +of his predecessors. Where these pictures are impressive is where the +artist slipped by his conscious aim, and laid hold of the nobility +peculiar to the men and women he used as symbols. It is not Time +or Death which awes us in Watts' picture, but majestical images of +humanity; and Watts is at his greatest as an inventor when humanity +itself most occupies him when he depicts human life only, and lets +it suggest its own natural infinity, as in those images of the lovers +drifting through the Inferno, with whom every passion is burnt out and +exhausted but the love through which they fell. + +Life itself is more infinite, noble, and suggestive than thought. We +soon come to the end of the ingenious allegory. It tells only one story +but where there is a perfect image of life there is infinitude and +mystery. We do not tire considering the long ancestry of expression in +a face. It may lead us back through the ages; but we do tire of the art +which imprisons itself within formulae, and says to the spectator: "In +this way and in no other shall you regard what is before you." No man is +profound enough to explain the nature of his own inspiration. Socrates +says that the poet utters many things which are truer than he himself +understands. The same thing applies to many a great artist, who, when he +paints tree or field, or face, or form, finds that there comes on him a +mysterious quickening of his nature, and he paints he knows not what. +It is like and unlike what his eyes have seen. It may be the same field, +but we feel there the presence of the spirit. It may be the same figure, +but it is made transcendental, as when the Word had become flesh and +dwelt among us. His inspiration is akin to that of the prophets of old, +whose words rang but for an instant and were still, yet they created +nations whose only boundaries were the silences where their speech had +not been heard. His majestical figures are prophecies. His ecstatic +landscapes bring us nigh to the beauty which was in Eden. His art is a +divine adventure, in which he, like all of us who are traveling in so +many ways, seeks, consciously or unconsciously, to regain the lost unity +with nature and the knowledge of his own immortal being, and it is so +you will best understand it. + +1906 + + + + + +AN ARTIST OF GAELIC IRELAND + + +The art of Hone and the elder Yeats, while in spirit filled with a +sentiment which was the persistence of ancient moods into modern times, +still has not the external characteristics of Gaeldom; but looking at +the pictures of the younger Yeats it seemed to me that for the first +time we had something which could be called altogether Gaelic. The +incompleteness of the sketches suggests the term "folk" as expressing +exactly the inspiration of this very genuine art. We have had abundance +of Irish folk-lore, but we knew nothing of folk-art until the figures of +Jack Yeats first romped into our imagination a few years ago. It was the +folk-feeling lit up by genius and interpreted by love. It was not, and +is now less than ever, the patronage bestowed by the intellectual artist +on the evidently picturesque forms of a life below his own. + +I suspect Jack Yeats thinks the life of the Sligo fisherman is as good +a method of life as any, and that he could share it for a long time +without being in the least desirous of a return to the comfortable +life of convention. The name of Muglas Hyde suggests itself to me as a +literary parallel. These sketches have all the prodigality of invention, +the exuberance of gesture, and animation of "The Twisting of the Rope," +and the poetry is of as high or higher an order. In the drawing called +"Midsummer Eve" there is a mystery which is not merely the mystery +of night and shadow. It is the mystery of the mingling of spirit with +spirit which is suggested by the solitary figure with face upturned +to the stars. We have all memories of such summer nights when into the +charmed heart falls the enchantment we call ancient, though the days +have no fellows, nor will ever have any, when the earth glows with the +dusky hues of rich pottery, and the stars, far withdrawn into faery +altitudes, dance with a gaiety which is more tremendous and solemn than +any repose. The night of this picture is steeped in such a dream, and I +know not whether it is communicated, or a feeling arising in myself; but +there seems everywhere in it the breathing of life, subtle, exultant, +penetrating. It is conceived in the mood of awe and prayer, which makes +Millet's pictures as religious as any whichever hung over the altar, for +surely the "Angelus" is one of the most spiritual of pictures, though +the peasants bow their heads and worship in a temple not built with +hands. I do not, of course, compare otherwise than in the mood the +"Midsummer Eve" to such a masterpiece; but there is a kinship between +the beauty revealed in great and in little things, and our thought turns +from the stars to the flowers with no feeling of descent into an +alien world. But this mood is rare in life as in art, and it is only +occasionally that the younger Yeats becomes the interpreter of the +spirituality of the peasant. He is more often the recorder of the +extravagant energies of the race-course and the market-place, where he +finds herded together all the grotesque humors of West Irish life. + +We recognize his figures as distinctly Irish. Here the old rollicking +Lever and Lover type of Irishmen reappear, hunting like the very devil, +with faces set in the last ecstasy of rapid motion. There is an excess +of energy in these furious riders which almost gives them a symbolic +character. They seem to ride on some passionate business of the soul +rather than for any transitory excitement of the body. And besides these +wild horse-men there are quiet and lovely figures like "A Mother of +the Rosses," holding her child to her breast in an opalescent twilight, +through which the boat that carries her moves. There are always large +and noble outlines, which suggest that if Jack Yeats had more grandiose +ambitions he might have been the Millet of Irish rural life, but he is +too much the symbolist, hating all but essentials, to elaborate his art. + +In writing of Jack Yeats mention must be made of his black and white +work, which at its best has a primitive intensity. The lines have a +kind of Gothic quality, reminding one of the rude glooms, the lights +and lines of some half-barbarian cathedral. They are very expressive and +never undecided. The artist always knows what he is going to do. There +is no doubt he has a clear image before him when he takes up pen or +brush. A strong will is always directing the strong lines, forcing them +to repeat an image present to the inner eye. In his early days Jack +Yeats loafed about the quays at Sligo, and we may be sure he was at all +the races, and paid his penny to go into the side-shows, and see the +freaks, the Fat Woman and the Skeleton Man. It was probably at this +period of his life he was captured by pirates of the Spanish Main. My +remembrance of Irish county towns at that time is that no literature +flourished except the Penny Dreadful and the local press. I may be +doing Jack Yeats an injustice when hailing him at the beginning of a +fascinating career I yet suspect a long background of Penny Dreadfuls +behind it. How else could he have drawn his pirates? They are the only +pirates in art who manifest the true pride, glory, beauty, and terror +of their calling as the romantic heart of childhood conceives of it. The +pirate has been lifted up to a strange kind of poetry in some of Jack +Yeats' pictures. I remember one called "Walking the Plank." The solemn +theatrical face, lifted up to the blue sky in a last farewell to the +wild world and its lawless freedom, haunted me for days. There was also +a pen-and-ink drawing I wish I could reproduce here. A young buccaneer, +splendid in evil bravery, leaned across a bar where a strange, beastly, +little, old, withered, rat-like figure was drawing the drink. The little +figure was like a devil with the soul all concentrated into malice, +and the whole picture affected one with terror like a descent into some +ferocious human hell. + +In all these figures, pirates or peasants, there is an ever present +suggestion of poetry; it is in the skies, or in the distance, or in the +colors; and these people who laugh in the fairs will have after hours +as solemn as the quiet star-gazer in the "Midsummer Eve." This poetry +is evident in the oddest ways, and escapes analysis, so elusive and so +original is it, as in the "Street of Shows." Nothing at first thought +seems more hopelessly remote from poetry than the country circus, with +its lurid posters of the Giant Schoolgirl, the Petrified Man, and the +Mermaid, all in strong sunlight; but the heart carries with it its +own mood, and this flaring scene has undergone some indefinite +transformation by the alchemy of genius, and it assumes the character of +a fairy tale or Arabian Nights Entertainment imagined in the fantastic +dreams of childhood. The sleepy doorkeeper is a goblin or gnome. Perhaps +the charm of it all is that it is so evidently illusion, for when the +heart is strong in its own surety it can look out on the world, and +smile on things which would be unendurable if felt to be permanent, +knowing they are only dreams. + +Many of these sketches have a largeness, almost a nobility, of +conception, which is, I think, a gift from father to son. "After the +Harvest's Saved" is something elemental. The "Post-car" suggests the +horses of the sun, or the stage coach in De Quincey's extraordinary +dream, when the opium had finally rioted in his brain, and transformed +his stage-coach into a chariot carrying news of some everlasting +victory. Blake has said "exuberance is genius," and there is an excess +of energy or passion, or a dilation of the forms, or a peace deeper than +mere quietude in the figures of Mr. Yeats' pictures, which gives them +that symbolic character which genius always impresses on its works. + +The coloring grows better every year; it is more varied and purer. It +is sometimes sombre, as in the tragic and dramatic "Simon the Cyrenian," +and sometimes rich and flowerlike, but always charged with sentiment, +and there is a curious fitness in it even when it is evidently unreal. +These blues and purples and pale greens--what crowd ever seemed clad +in such twilight colors? And yet we accept it as natural, for this +opalescence is always in the mist-laden air of the West; it enters into +the soul today as it did into the soul of the ancient Gael, who called +it Ildathach--the many-colored land; it becomes part of the atmosphere +of the mind; and I think Mr. Yeats means here to express, by one of the +inventions of genius, that this dim radiant coloring of his figures is +the fitting symbol of the fairyland which is in their hearts. I have not +felt so envious of any artist's gift for a long time; not envy of his +power of expression, but of his way of seeing things. We are all seeking +today for some glimpse of the fairyland our fathers knew; but all the +fairylands, the Silver Cloud World, the Tirnanoge, the Land of Heart's +Desire, rose like dreams out of the human soul, and in tracking them +there Mr. Yeats has been more fortunate than us all, for he has come to +the truth, perhaps hardly conscious of it himself. + +1902 + + + + +TWO IRISH ARTISTS + + +It is unjust to an artist to write on the spur of the moment of his +work--of the just seen picture which pleases or displeases. For what +instantly delights the eye may never win its way into the heart, and +what repels at first may steal later on into the understanding, and find +its interpretation in a deeper mood. The final test of a picture, or of +any work of art, is its power of enduring charm. There are many circles +in the Paradise of Beautiful Memories, and half unconsciously, but with +a justice, we at last place each in its hierarchy, remote or near to +the centre of our being; and I propose here rather to speak of the +impression left in my memory after seeing the work of Yeats and Hone +for many years, than to describe in detail the pictures--some new, +some familiar--which by a happy thought have been gathered together for +exhibition. To tell an artist that you remember his pictures with +love after many years is the highest praise you can give him; and to +distinguish the impression produced from others is a pleasure I am glad +to be here allowed. + +An artist like Mr. Yeats, whose main work has been in portraiture, must +often find himself before sitters with whom he has little sympathy, and +we all expect to find portraits which do not interest us, because the +interpreter has been at fault, and has failed in his vision. With the +born craftsman, who always gives us beautiful brushwork, we do not +expect these inequalities, but with Mr. Yeats technical power is not the +most prominent characteristic. He broods or dreams over his sitters, +and his meditation always tends to the discovery of some spiritual +or intellectual life in them, or some hidden charm in the nature, or +something to love; and if he finds what he seeks, we are sure, not +always of a complete picture, but of a poetic illumination, a revelation +of character, a secret sweetness for which we forgive the weakness or +indecision manifest here and there, and which are relics of the hours +before the final surety was attained. + +I do not know what Mr. Yeats' philosophy of life is, but in his work +he has been over-mastered by the spirit of his race, and he belongs to +those who from the earliest dawn of Ireland have sought for the Heart's +Desire, and who have refined away the world, until only fragments +remained to them. They have not accepted life as it is, and Mr. Yeats +could not paint like Reynolds or Romney the beauty of every day in its +best attire. He is like the Irish poets who have rarely left a complete +description of women, but who speak of some transitory motion or fragile +charm--"a thin palm like foam of the sea," "a white body," or in such +vague phrases, until it seems a spirit is praised and not flesh and +blood. I remember the faces of women and children in his pictures where +everything is blurred or obscured, save faces which have a nameless +charm. They look at you with long-remembered glances out of the brooding +hour of twilight, out of reverie and dream. It is the hidden heart which +looks out, and we love these women and children for this, for surely the +heart's desire is its own secret. + +His portraits of men have kindred qualities, and the magnificent picture +of John O'Leary shows him at his best. It is itself a symbol of the +movement of which O'Leary was the last great representative. The stately +patriarchal head of the old chief is the head of the idealist, so sure +of his own truth that he must act, and, if needs be, become the +martyr for his ideal. But the delicate hands are not the hands of an +empire-breaker. This portrait will probably find its last resting-place +in the National Gallery, where, with a curious irony, the Government +places the portraits of the dead rebels who gave its statesmen many an +anxious day and many a nightmare; and so it will go on, perhaps, until +the contemplation of these pictures inspires some boy with an equal or +better head and a stronger hand, and then--. + +But to return to Mr. Yeats. Some earlier pictures show him attempting to +paint directly the ideal world of romance and poetry; yet interesting +as these are, they do not convey the same impression of mystery as the +pictures of today. Indeed, the light seen behind or through a veil +is always more suggestive than the unveiled light. It may be that +the spirit is a formless breath which pervades form, and it is better +revealed as a light in the eyes, as a brooding expression, than by the +choice of ancient days and other-world subjects, where the shapes can be +molded to ideal forms by the artist's will. However it is, it is certain +that Millet, the realist, is more spiritual than Moreau or Burne-Jones +for all their archaic design; and Mr. Yeats, who, as his King Goll +shows, might have been a great romantic painter, has probably chosen +wisely, and has painted more memorable pictures than if he had gone back +to the fairyland of Celtic mythology. + +To turn from Yeats to Hone is to turn from the lighted hearth to the +wilderness. Humanity is very far away, or is huddled up under immense +skies, where it seems of less importance than the rocks. The earth on +which men have lived, where the work of their hand is evident, with all +the sentiment of the presence of man, with smoke arising from numberless +homes, is foreign to Mr. Hone. The monsters of the primeval world might +sprawl on the rocks, for all the evidence of lapse of time since their +day, in many of his pictures. He, too, has refined away his world until +only fragments of the earth remain to him where he can dream in; and +these are waste places, where the salt of the sea is in the wind, and +the skies are gray and vapor-laden, or the loneliness of dim twilights +are over level sands. Whatever else he paints is devoid of its proper +interest, for he seems to impose on the cattle in the fields and on the +habitable places a sentiment alien to their nature. He has a mind with +but one impressive mood, and his spirit is never kindled, save in the +society where none intrude; but in his own domain he is a master, and is +always sure of himself and his effect. There is no tentative, undecisive +brushwork, such as we often see in the subtle search for the unrevealed, +which makes or mars Mr. Yeats' work. He is at home in his peculiar +world, while the other is always seeking for it. + +"A Sunset on Malahide Sands" shows a greater intensity than is usual +even in Mr. Hone's work. There is something thrilling in this twilight +trembling over the deserted world. Philosophies may prove very well in +the lecture-room, says Whitman, and not prove at all under the sky and +stars. Pictures likewise may seem beautiful in a gallery, yet look thin +and unreal where, with a turn of the head, one could look out at the +pictures created hour after hour by the Master of the Beautiful; but +there is some magic in this vision made up of elemental light, darkness, +and loneliness, and we feel awed as if we knew the Spirit was hidden +in His works. But primitive as this peculiar world is, and remote from +humanity, it is just here we find a human revelation; for is not all +art a symbol of the creative mind, and if we were wise enough we would +understand that in art the light on every cloud, and the clear spaces +above the cloud, and the shadows of the earth beneath are made out of +the lights, infinitudes, and shadows of the soul, and are selected from +nature because of some correspondence, unconscious or half felt. But +these things belong more to the psychology of the artist mind than to +the appreciation of its work. I have said enough, I hope, to attract to +the work of these artists, in a mood of true understanding, those who +would like to believe in the existence in Ireland of a genuine art. For +ignored and uncared for as art is, we have some names to be proud of, +and of these Mr. Yeats and Mr. Hone are foremost. + +1902 + + + + +"ULSTER" + + +AN OPEN LETTER TO MR. RUDYARD KIPLING + + +I Speak to you, brother, because you have spoken to me, or rather you +have spoken for me. I am a native of Ulster. So far back as I can +trace the faith of my forefathers they held the faith for whose free +observance you are afraid. + +I call you brother, for so far as I am known beyond the circle of my +personal friends it is as a poet. We are not a numerous tribe, but the +world has held us in honor, because on the whole in poetry is found +the highest and sincerest utterance of man's spirit. In this manner of +speaking if a man is not sincere his speech betrayeth him, for all +true poetry was written on the Mount of Transfiguration, and there is +revelation in it and the mingling of heaven and earth. I am jealous of +the honor of poetry, and I am jealous of the good name of my country, +and I am impelled by both emotions to speak to you. + +You have blood of our race in you, and you may, perhaps, have some +knowledge of Irish sentiment. You have offended against one of our +noblest literary traditions in the manner in which you have published +your thoughts. You begin by quoting Scripture. You preface your verses +on Ulster by words from the mysterious oracles of humanity as if you had +been inflamed and inspired by the prophet of God; and you go on to sing +of faith in peril and patriotism betrayed and the danger of death and +oppression by those who do murder by night, which things, if one truly +feels, he speaks of without consideration of commerce or what it shall +profit him to speak. But you, brother, have withheld your fears for your +country and mine until they could yield you a profit in two continents. +After all this high speech about the Lord and the hour of national +darkness it shocks me to find this following your verses: "Copyrighted +in the United States of America by Rudyard Kipling." You are not in +want. You are the most successful man of letters of your time, and yet +you are not above making profit out of the perils of your country. +You ape the lordly speech of the prophets, and you conclude by warning +everybody not to reprint your words at their peril. In Ireland every +poet we honor has dedicated his genius to his country without gain, and +has given without stint, without any niggardly withholding of his gift +when his nation was dark and evil days. Not one of our writers, when +deeply moved about Ireland, has tried to sell the gift of the spirit. +You, brother, hurt me when you declare your principles, and declare a +dividend to yourself out of your patriotism openly and at the same time. + +I would not reason with you, but that I know there is something truly +great and noble in you, and there have been hours when the immortal in +you secured your immortality in literature, when you ceased to see life +with that hard cinematograph eye of yours, and saw with the eyes of +the spirit, and power and tenderness and insight were mixed in magical +tales. But you were far from the innermost when you wrote of my +countrymen us you did. + +I have lived all my life in Ireland, holding a different faith from that +held by the majority. I know Ireland as few Irishmen know it, county by +county, for I traveled all over Ireland for years, and, Ulster man as I +am, and proud of the Ulster people, I resent the crowning of Ulster +with all the virtues and the dismissal of other Irishmen as thieves and +robbers. I resent the cruelty with which you, a stranger, speak of the +lovable and kindly people I know. + +You are not even accurate in your history when you speak of Ulster's +traditions and the blood our forefathers spilt. Over a century ago +Ulster was the strong and fast place of rebellion, and it was in Ulster +that the Volunteers stood beside their cannon and wrung the gift of +political freedom for the Irish Parliament. You are blundering in your +blame. You speak of Irish greed in I know not what connection, unless +you speak of the war waged over the land; and yet you ought to know that +both parties in England have by Act after Act confessed the absolute +justice and rightness of that agitation, Unionist no less than Liberal, +and both boast of their share in answering the Irish appeal. They are +both proud today of what they did. They made inquiry into wrong and +redressed it. But you, it seems, can only feel sore and angry that +intolerable conditions imposed by your laws were not borne in patience +and silence. For what party do you speak? What political ideal inspires +you? When an Irishman has a grievance you smite him. How differently +would you have written of Runnymede and the valiant men who rebelled +when oppressed. You would have made heroes out of them. Have you no soul +left, after admiring the rebels in your own history, to sympathize with +other rebels suffering deeper wrongs? Can you not see deeper into the +motives for rebellion than the hireling reporter who is sent to make +up a case for the paper of a party? The best men in Ulster, the best +Unionists in Ireland will not be grateful to you for libeling their +countrymen in your verse. For, let the truth be known, the mass of Irish +Unionists are much more in love with Ireland than with England. They +think Irish Nationalists are mistaken, and they fight with them and +use hard words, and all the time they believe Irishmen of any party are +better in the sight of God than Englishmen. They think Ireland is the +best country in the world to live in, and they hate to hear Irish people +spoken of as murderers and greedy scoundrels. Murderers! Why, there is +more murder done in any four English shires in a year than in the whole +of the four provinces of Ireland! Greedy! The nation never accepted a +bribe, or took it as an equivalent or payment for an ideal, and what +bribe would not have been offered to Ireland if it had been willing to +forswear its traditions. + +I am a person whose whole being goes into a blaze at the thought +of oppression of faith, and yet I think my Catholic countrymen more +tolerant than those who hold the faith I was born in. I am a heretic +judged by their standards, a heretic who has written and made public his +heresies, and I have never suffered in friendship or found my heresies +an obstacle in life. I set my knowledge, the knowledge of a lifetime, +against your ignorance, and I say you have used your genius to do +Ireland and its people a wrong. You have intervened in a quarrel of +which you do not know the merits like any brawling bully, who passes, +and only takes sides to use his strength. If there was a high court of +poetry, and those in power jealous of the noble name of poet, and that +none should use it save those who were truly Knights of the Holy Ghost, +they would hack the golden spurs from your heels and turn you out of the +Court. You had the ear of the world and you poisoned it with prejudice +and ignorance. You had the power of song, and you have always used it +on behalf of the strong against the weak. You have smitten with all your +might at creatures who are frail on earth but mighty in the heavens, +at generosity, at truth, at justice, and heaven has withheld vision +and power and beauty from you, for this your verse is but a shallow +newspaper article made to rhyme. Truly ought the golden spurs to be +hacked from your heels and you be thrust out of the Court. + +1912 + + + + +IDEALS OF THE NEW RURAL SOCIETY + + +For a country where political agitations follow each other as rapidly +as plagues in an Eastern city, it is curious how little constructive +thought we can show on the ideals of a rural civilization. But economic +peace ought surely to have its victories to show as well as political +war. I would a thousand times rather dwell on what men and women working +together may do than on what may result from majorities at Westminster. +The beauty of great civilizations has been built up far more by the +people working together than by any corporate action of the State. In +these socialistic days we grow pessimistic about our own efforts and +optimistic about the working of the legislature. I think we do right to +expect great things from the State, but we ought to expect still greater +things from ourselves. We ought to know full well that, if the State did +twice as much as it does, we shall never rise out of mediocrity among +the nations unless we have unlimited faith in the power of our personal +efforts to raise and transform Ireland, and unless we translate the +faith into works. The State can give a man an economic holding, but +only the man himself can make it into Earthly Paradise, and it is a dull +business, unworthy of a being made in the image of God, to grind away +at work without some noble end to be served, some glowing ideal to be +attained. + +Ireland is a horribly melancholy and cynical country. Our literary men +and poets, who ought to give us courage, have taken to writing about +the Irish as people who "went forth to battle, but always fell," +sentimentalizing over incompetence instead of invigorating us and +liberating us and directing our energies. We have developed a new and +clever school of Irish dramatists who say they are holding up the mirror +to Irish peasant nature, but they reflect nothing but decadence. They +delight in the broken lights of insanity, the ruffian who beats his +wife, the weakling who is unfortunate in love and who goes and drinks +himself to death, while the little decaying country towns are seized on +with avidity and exhibited on the stage in every kind of decay and human +futility and meanness. Well, it is good to be chastened in spirit, +but it is a thousand times better to be invigorated in spirit. To be +positive is always better than to be negative. These writers understand +and sympathize with Ireland more through their lower nature than their +higher nature. Judging by the things people write in Ireland, and by +what they go to see performed on the stage, it is more pleasing to them +to see enacted characters they know are meaner than themselves than to +see characters which they know are nobler than themselves. + +All this is helping on our national pessimism and self-mistrust. It +helps to fix these features permanently in our national character, +which were excusable enough as temporary moods after defeat. The +younger generation should hear nothing about failures. It should not be +hypnotized into self-contempt. Our energies in Ireland are sapped by a +cynical self-mistrust which is spread everywhere through society. It +is natural enough that the elder generation, who were promised so many +millenniums, but who actually saw four million people deducted from the +population, should be cynical. But it is not right they should give only +to the younger generation the heritage of their disappointments without +any heritage of hope. From early childhood parents and friends are +hypnotizing the child into beliefs and unbeliefs, and too often they are +exiling all nobility out of life, all confidence, all trust, all hope; +they are insinuating a mean self-seeking, a self-mistrust, a vulgar +spirit which laughs at every high ideal, until at last the hypnotized +child is blinded to the presence of any beauty or nobility in life. No +country can ever hope to rise beyond a vulgar mediocrity where there is +not unbounded confidence in what its humanity can do. The self-confident +American will make a great civilization yet, because he believes with +all his heart and soul in the future of his country and in the powers of +the American people. What Whitman called their "barbaric yawp" may yet +turn into the lordliest speech and thought, but without self-confidence +a race will go no whither. If Irish people do not believe they can equal +or surpass the stature of any humanity which has been upon the globe, +then they had better all emigrate and become servants to some superior +race, and leave Ireland to new settlers who may come here with the same +high hopes as the Pilgrim Fathers had when they went to America. + +We must go on imagining better than the best we know. Even in their +ruins now, Greece and Italy seem noble and beautiful with broken pillars +and temples made in their day of glory. But before ever there was a +white marble temple shining on a hill it shone with a more brilliant +beauty in the mind of some artist who designed it. Do many people know +how that marvelous Greek civilization spread along the shores of the +Mediterranean? Little nations owning hardly more land than would make up +an Irish barony sent out colony after colony. The seed of beautiful +life they sowed grew and blossomed out into great cities and half-divine +civilizations. Italy had a later blossoming of beauty in the Middle +Ages, and travelers today go into little Italian towns and find them +filled with masterpieces of painting and architecture and sculpture, +witnesses of a time when nations no larger than an Irish county rolled +their thoughts up to Heaven and miked their imagination with the angels. +Can we be contented in Ireland with the mean streets of our country +towns and the sordid heaps of our villages dominated in their economics +by the vendors of alcohol, and inspired as to their ideals by the +vendors of political animosities? + +I would not mind people fighting in a passion to get rid of all that +barred some lordly scheme of life, but quarrels over political bones +from which there is little or nothing wholesome to be picked only +disgust. People tell me that the countryside must always be stupid and +backward, and I get angry, as if it were said that only townspeople had +immortal souls, and it was only in the city that the flame of divinity +breathed into the first men had any unobscured glow. The countryside in +Ireland could blossom into as much beauty as the hillsides in mediaeval +Italy if we could but get rid of our self-mistrust. We have all that +any race ever had to inspire them, the heavens overhead, the earth +underneath, and the breath of life in our nostrils. I would like to +exile the man who would set limits to what we can do, who would take the +crown and sceptre from the human will and say, marking out some petty +enterprise as the limit--"Thus far can we go and no farther, and +here shall our life be stayed." Therefore I hate to hear of stagnant +societies who think because they have made butter well that they have +crowned their parochial generation with a halo of glory, and can rest +content with the fame of it all, listening to the whirr of the steam +separators and pouching in peace of mind the extra penny a gallon for +their milk. And I dislike the little groups who meet a couple of times +a year and call themselves co-operators because they have got their +fertilizers more cheaply, and have done nothing else. Why, the village +gombeen man has done more than that! He has at least brought most of +the necessaries of life there by his activities; and I say if we +co-operators do not aim at doing more than the Irish Scribes and +Pharisees we shall have little to be proud of. A poet, interpreting the +words of Christ to His followers, who had scorned the followers of the +old order, made Him say: + + Scorn ye their hopes, their tears, their inward prayers? + I say unto you, see that your souls live + A deeper life than theirs. + +The co-operative movement is delivering over the shaping of the rural +life of Ireland, and the building up of its rural civilization, into +the hands of Irish farmers. The old order of things has left Ireland +unlovely. But if we do not passionately strive to build it better, +better for the men, for the women, for the children, of what worth are +we? We continually come across the phrase "the dull Saxon" in our Irish +papers, it crops up in the speeches of our public orators, but it was an +English poet who said: + + I will not cease from mental fight, + Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand + Till we have built Jerusalem + In England's green and pleasant land. + +And it was the last great, poet England has produced, who had so much +hope for humanity in his country that in his latest song he could mix +earth with heaven, and say that to human eyes: + + Shall shine the traffic of Jacob's ladder + Hung betwixt Heaven and Charing Cross. + +Shall we think more meanly of the future of Ireland than these "dull +Saxons" think of the future of their island? Shall we be content with +humble crumbs fallen from the table of life, and sit like beggars +waiting only for what the commonwealth can do for us, leaving all high +hopes and aims to our rulers, whether they be English or Irish? Every +people get the kind of Government they deserve. A nation can exhibit no +greater political wisdom in the mass than it generates in its units. +It is the pregnant idealism of the multitude which gives power to the +makers of great nations, otherwise the prophets of civilization are +helpless as preachers in the desert and solitary places. So I have +always preached self-help above all other kinds of help, knowing that if +we strove passionately after this righteousness all other kinds of help +would be at our service. So, too, I would brush aside the officious +interferer in co-operative affairs, who would offer on behalf of the +State to do for us what we should, and could, do far better ourselves. +We can build up a rural civilization in Ireland, shaping it to our +hearts' desires, warming it with life, but our rulers and officials +can never be warmer than a stepfather, and have no "large, divine, and +comfortable words" for us; they tinker at the body when it is the soul +which requires to be healed and made whole. The soul of Ireland has to +be kindled, and it can be kindled only by the thought of great deeds and +not by the hope of petty parsimonies or petty gains. + +Now, great deeds are never done vicariously. They are done directly and +personally. No country has grown to greatness mainly by the acts of +some great ruler, but by the aggregate activities of all its people. +Therefore, every Irish community should make its own ideals and +should work for them. As great work can be done in a parish as in the +legislative assemblies with a nation at gaze. Do people say: "It is +easier to work well with a nation at gaze?" I answer that true greatness +becomes the North Pole of humanity, and when it appears all the needles +of Being point to it. You of the young generation, who have not yet lost +the generous ardour of youth, believe it is as possible to do great work +and make noble sacrifices, and to roll the acceptable smoke of offering +to Heaven by your work in an Irish parish, as in any city in the world. +Like the Greek architects--who saw in their dreams hills crowned with +white marble pillared palaces and images of beauty, until these rose up +in actuality--so should you, not forgetting national ideals, still most +of all set before yourselves the ideal of your own neighborhood. How can +you speak of working for all Ireland, which you have not seen, if you do +not labor and dream for the Ireland before your eyes, which you see as +you look out of your own door in the morning, and on which you walk up +and down through the day? + +"What dream shall we dream or what labor shall we undertake?" you may +ask, and it is right that those who exhort should be asked in what +manner and how precisely they would have the listener act or think. I +answer: the first thing to do is to create and realize the feeling for +the community, and break up the evil and petty isolation of man from +man. This can be done by every kind of co-operative effort where +combined action is better than individual action. The parish cannot take +care of the child as well as the parents, but you will find in most +of the labors of life combined action is more fruitful than individual +action. Some of you have found this out in many branches of agriculture, +of which your dairying, agricultural, credit, poultry, and flax +societies are witness. Some of you have combined to manufacture; some +to buy in common, some to sell in common. Some of you have the common +ownership of thousands of pounds' worth of expensive machinery. Some of +you have carried the idea of co-operation for economic ends farther, and +have used the power which combination gives you to erect village halls +and to have libraries of books, the windows through which the life +and wonder and power of humanity can be seen. Some of you have +light-heartedly, in the growing sympathy of unity, revived the dances +and songs and sports which are the right relaxation of labor. Some +Irishwomen here and there have heard beyond the four walls in which so +much of their lives are spent the music of a new day, and have started +out to help and inspire the men and be good comrades to them; and +calling themselves United Irish-women, they have joined, as men have +joined, to help their sisters who are in economic servitude, or who +suffer from the ignorance and indifference to their special needs in +life which pervade the administration of local government. We cannot +build up a rural civilization in Ireland without the aid of Irish women. +It will help life little if we have methods of the twentieth century in +the fields, and those of the fifth century in the home. A great writer +said: "Woman is the last thing man will civilize." If a woman had +written on that subject she would have said: "Woman is the last thing +a man thinks about when he is building up his empires." It is true that +the consciousness of woman has been always centered too close to the +dark and obscure roots of the Tree of Life, while men have branched +out more to the sun an wind, and today the starved soul of womanhood is +crying out over the world for an intellectual life and for more chance +of earning a living. If Ireland will not listen to this cry, its +daughters will go on slipping silently away to other countries, as they +have been doing--all the best of them, all the bravest, all those most +mentally alive, all those who would have made the best wives and the +best mothers--and they will leave at home the timid, the stupid and +the dull to help in the deterioration of the race and to breed sons as +sluggish as themselves. In the New World women have taken an important +part in the work of the National Grange, the greatest agency in +bettering the economic and social conditions of the agricultural +population in the States. In Ireland the women must be welcomed into +the work of building up a rural civilization, and be aided by men in the +promotion of those industries with which women have been immemorially +associated. We should not want to see women separated from the +activities and ideals and inspirations of men. We should want to see +them working together and in harmony. If the women carry on their work +in connection with the associations by which men earn their living they +will have a greater certainty of permanence. I have seen too many little +industries and little associations of women workers spring up and perish +in Ireland, which depended on the efforts of some one person who had not +drunk of the elixir of immortal youth, and could not always continue +the work she started; and I have come to the conclusion that the women's +organizations must be connected with the men's organizations, must use +their premises, village halls, and rooms for women's meetings. I do not +believe women's work can be promoted so well in any other way. Men and +women have been companions in the world from the dawn of time. I do not +know where they are journeying to, but I believe they will never get to +the Delectable City if they journey apart from each other, and do not +share each other's burdens. + +Working so, we create the conditions in which the spirit of the +community grows strong. We create the true communal idea, which +the Socialists miss in their dream of a vast amalgamation of whole +nationalities in one great commercial undertaking. The true idea of the +clan or commune or tribe is to have in it as many people as will give +it strength and importance, and so few people that a personal tie may +be established between them. Humanity has always grouped itself +instinctively in this way. It did so in the ancient clans and rural +communes, and it does so in the parishes and co-operative associations. +If they were larger they would lose the sense of unity. If they were +smaller they would be too feeble for effectual work, and could not take +over the affairs of their district. A rural commune or co-operative +community ought to have, to a large extent, the character of a nation. +It should manufacture for its members all things which it profitably can +manufacture for them, employing its own workmen, carpenters, bootmakers, +makers and menders of farming equipment, saddlery, harness, etc. It +should aim at feeding its members and their families cheaply and well, +as far as possible, out of the meat and grain produced in the district. +It should have a mill to grind their grain, a creamery to manufacture +their butter; or where certain enterprises like a bacon factory are too +great for it, it should unite with other co-operative communities to +furnish out such an enterprise. It should sell for the members their +produce, and buy for them their requirements, and hold for them +labor-saving machinery. It should put aside a certain portion of its +profits every year for the creation of halls, libraries, places for +recreation and games, and it should pursue this plan steadily with the +purpose of giving its members every social and educational advantage +which the civilization of their time affords. It should have its +councils or village parliaments, where improvements and new ventures +could be discussed. Such a community would soon generate a passionate +devotion to its own ideals and interests among the members, who would +feel how their fortunes rose with the fortunes of the associations of +which they were all members. It would kindle and quicken the intellect +of every person in the community. It would create the atmosphere in +which national genius would emerge and find opportunities for its +activity. The clan ought to be the antechamber of the nation and the +training ground for its statesmen. What opportunity leadership in the +councils of such a rural community would give to the best minds! The man +of social genius at present finds an unorganized community, and he does +not know how to affect his fellow-citizens. A man might easily despair +of affecting the destinies of a nation of forty million people, but yet +start with eagerness to build up a kingdom of the size of Sligo, and +shape it nearer to the heart's desire. The organization of the rural +population of Ireland in co-operative associations will provide the +instrument ready to the hand of the social reformer. + +Some associations will be more dowered with ability than others, but +one will learn from another, and a vast network of living, progressive +organizations will cover rural Ireland, democratic in constitution and +governed by the aristocracy of intellect and character. + +Such associations would have great economic advantages in that they +would be self-reliant and self-contained, and would be less subject to +fluctuation in their prosperity brought about by national disasters and +commercial crises than the present unorganized rural communities are. +They would have all their business under local control; and, aiming at +feeding, clothing, and manufacturing locally from local resources as far +as possible, the slumps in foreign trade, the shortage in supplies, the +dislocations of commerce would affect them but little. They would make +the community wealthier. Every step towards this organization already +taken in Ireland has brought with it increased prosperity, and the +towns benefit by increased purchasing power on the part of these rural +associations. New arts and industries would spring up under the aegis of +the local associations. Here we should find the weaving of rugs, +there the manufacture of toys, elsewhere the women would be engaged +in embroidery or lace-making, and, perhaps, everywhere we might get a +revival of the old local industry of weaving homespuns. We are dreaming +of nothing impossible, nothing which has not been done somewhere +already, nothing which we could not do here in Ireland. True, it cannot +be done all at once, but if we get the idea clearly in our minds of the +building up of a rural civilization in Ireland, we can labor at it with +the grand persistence of medieval burghers in their little towns, where +one generation laid down the foundations of a great cathedral, and saw +only in hope and faith the gorgeous glooms over altar and sanctuary, +and the blaze and flame of stained glass, where apostles, prophets, and +angelic presences were pictured in fire: and the next generation raised +high the walls, and only the third generation saw the realization of +what their grandsires had dreamed. We in Ireland should not live only +from day to day, for the day only, like the beasts in the field, but +should think of where all this long cavalcade of the Gael is tending, +and how and in what manner their tents will be pitched in the evening +of their generation. A national purpose is the most unconquerable and +victorious of all things on earth. It can raise up Babylons from the +sands of the desert, and make imperial civilizations spring from out a +score of huts, and after it has wrought its will it can leave monuments +that seem as everlasting a portion of nature as the rocks. The Pyramids +and the Sphinx in the sands of Egypt have seemed to humanity for +centuries as much a portion of nature as Erigal, or Benbulben, or Slieve +Gullion have seemed a portion of nature to our eyes in Ireland. + +We must have some purpose or plan in building up an Irish civilization. +No artist takes up his paints and brushes and begins to work on his +canvas without a clear idea burning in his brain of what he has to do, +else were his work all smudges. Does anyone think that out of all these +little cabins and farmhouses dotting the green of Ireland there will +come harmonious effort to a common end without organization and set +purpose? The idea and plan of a great rural civilization must shine like +a burning lamp in the imagination of the youth of Ireland, or we shall +only be at cross-purposes and end in little fatuities. We are very fond +in Ireland of talking of Ireland a nation. The word "nation" has a kind +of satisfying sound, but I am afraid it is an empty word with no rich +significance to most who use it. The word "laboratory" has as fine a +sound, but only the practical scientist has a true conception of what +may take place there, what roar of strange forces, what mingling of +subtle elements, what mystery and magnificence in atomic life. The word +without the idea is like the purse without the coin, the skull without +the soul, or any other sham or empty deceit. Nations are not built up by +the repetition of words, but by the organizing of intellectual forces. +If any of my readers would like to know what kind of thought goes to +the building up of a great nation, let him read the life of Alexander +Hamilton by Oliver. To that extraordinary man the United States owe +their constitution, almost their existence. To him, far more than to +Washington, the idea, plan, shape of all that marvelous dominion owes +its origin and character. He seemed to hold in his brain, while America +was yet a group of half-barbaric settlements, the idea of what it might +become. He laid down the plans, the constitution, the foreign policy, +the trade policy, the relation of State to State, and it is only within +the last few years almost, that America has realized that she had +in Hamilton a supreme political and social intelligence, the true +fountain-head of what she has since become. + +We have not half a continent to deal with, but size matters nothing. The +Russian Empire, which covers half Europe, and stretches over the Ural +Mountains to the Pacific, would weigh light as a feather in the balance +if we compare its services to humanity with those of the little State of +Attica, which was no larger than Tipperary. Every State which has come +to command the admiration of the world has had clearly conceived ideals +which it realized before it went the way which all empires, even the +greatest, must go; becoming finally a legend, a fable, or a symbol. We +have to lay down the foundations of a new social order in Ireland, and, +if the possibilities of it are realized, our thousand years of sorrow +and darkness may be followed by as long a cycle of happy effort and +ever-growing prosperity. We shall want all these plans whether we +are ruled from Westminster or College Green. Without an imaginative +conception of what kind of civilization we wish to create, the best +government from either quarter will never avail to lift us beyond +national mediocrity. I write for those who have joined the ranks of the +co-operators without perhaps realizing all that the movement meant, or +all that it tended to. Because we hold in our hearts and keep holy there +the vision of a great future, I have fought passionately for the entire +freedom of our movement from external control, lest the meddling of +politicians or official persons without any inspiration should deflect, +for some petty purpose or official gratification, the strength of that +current which was flowing and gathering strength unto the realization +of great ideals. Every country has its proportion of little souls which +could find ample room on a threepenny bit, and be majestically housed in +a thimble, who follow out some little minute practice in an ecstasy of +self-satisfaction, seeking some little job which is the El Dorado of +their desires as if there were naught else, as if humanity were not +going from the Great Deep to the Great Deep of Deity, with wind and +water, fire and earth, stars and sun, lordly companions for it on its +path to a divine destiny. We have our share of these in Ireland in high +and low places, but I do not write for them. This essay is for those +who are working at laying deep the foundations of a new social order, to +hearten them with some thought of what their labor may bring to Ireland. +I welcome to this work the United Irishwomen. As one of their poetesses +has said in a beautiful song, the services of women to Ireland in the +past have been the services of mourners to the stricken. But for today +and tomorrow we need hope and courage and gaiety, and I repeat for them +the last passionate words of her verse: + + Rise to your feet, O daughters, rise, + Our mother still is young and fair. + Let the world look into your eyes + And see her beauty shining there. + Grant of that beauty but one ray, + Heroes shall leap from every hill; + Today shall be as yesterday, + The red blood burns in Ireland still. + + + + + +THOUGHTS FOR A CONVENTION + + +1. There are moments in history when by the urgency of circumstance +everyone in a country is drawn from normal pursuits to consider the +affairs of the nation. The merchant is turned from his warehouse, the +bookman from his books, the farmer from his fields, because they realize +that the very foundations of the society, under whose shelter they were +able to carry on their avocation, are being shaken, and they can no +longer be voiceless, or leave it to deputies, unadvised by them, +to arrange national destinies. We are all accustomed to endure the +annoyances and irritations caused by legislation which is not agreeable +to us, and solace ourselves by remembering that the things which +really matter are not affected. But when the destiny of a nation, the +principles by which life is to be guided are at stake, all are on a +level, are equally affected and are bound to give expression to their +opinions. Ireland is in one of these moments of history. Circumstances +with which we are all familiar and the fever in which the world exists +have infected it, and it is like molten metal the skilled political +artificer might pour into a desirable mould. But if it is not handled +rightly, if any factor is ignored, there may be an explosion which would +bring on us a fate as tragic as anything in our past history. Irishmen +can no longer afford to remain aloof from each other, or to address each +other distantly and defiantly from press or platform, but must strive +to understand each other truly, and to give due weight to each other's +opinions, and, if possible, arrive at a compromise, a balancing of +their diversities, which may save our country from anarchy and chaos for +generations to come. + +2. An agreement about Irish Government must be an agreement, not between +two but three Irish parties first of all, and afterwards with Great +Britain. The Premier of a Coalition Cabinet has declared that there is +no measure of self government which Great Britain would not assent to +being set up in Ireland, if Irishmen themselves could but come to an +agreement. Before such a compromise between Irish parties is possible +there must be a clear understanding of the ideals of these parties, +as they are understood by themselves, and not as they are presented +in party controversy by special pleaders whose object too often is to +pervert or discredit the principles and actions of opponents, a +thing which is easy to do because all parties, even the noblest, have +followers who do them disservice by ignorant advocacy or excited action. +If we are to unite Ireland we can only do so by recognizing what truly +are the principles each party stands for, and will not forsake, and for +which, if necessary they will risk life. True understanding is to see +ideas as they are held by men between themselves and Heaven; and in this +mood I will try, first of all, to understand the position of Unionists, +Sinn Feiners and Constitutional Nationalists as they have been explained +to me by the best minds among them, those who have induced others of +their countrymen to accept those ideals. When this is done we will see +if compromise, a balancing of diversities be not possible in an +Irish State where all that is essential in these varied ideals may be +harmonized and retained. + +3. I will take first of all the position of Unionists. They are, many +of them, the descendants of settlers who by their entrance into Ireland +broke up the Gaelic uniformity and introduced the speech, the thoughts, +characteristic of another race. While they have grown to love their +country as much as any of Gaelic origin, and their peculiarities have +been modified by centuries of life in Ireland and by intermarriage, +so that they are much more akin to their fellow-countrymen in mind and +manner than they are to any other people, they still retain habits, +beliefs and traditions from which they will not part. They form a class +economically powerful. They have openness and energy of character, great +organizing power and a mastery over materials, all qualities invaluable +in an Irish State. In North-East Ulster, where they are most homogeneous +they conduct the affairs of their cities with great efficiency, carrying +on an international trade not only with Great Britain but with the rest +of the world. They have made these industries famous. They believe that +their prosperity is in large measure due to their acceptance of the +Union, that it would be lessened if they threw in their lot with the +other Ireland and accepted its ideals, that business which now goes to +their shipyards and factories would cease if they were absorbed in +a self-governing Ireland whose spokesmen had an unfortunate habit of +nagging their neighbors and of conveying the impression that they are +inspired by race hatred. They believe that an Irish legislature would be +controlled by a majority, representatives mainly of small farmers, men +who had no knowledge of affairs, or of the peculiar needs of Ulster +industry, or the intricacy of the problems involved in carrying on an +international trade; that the religious ideas of the majority would be +so favored in education and government that the favoritism would amount +to religious oppression. They are also convinced that no small country +in the present state of the world can really be independent, that +such only exist by sufferance of their mighty neighbors, and must be +subservient in trade policy and military policy to retain even a nominal +freedom; and that an independent Ireland would by its position be a +focus for the intrigues of powers hostile to Great Britain, and if it +achieved independence Great Britain in self protection would be forced +to conquer it again. They consider that security for industry and +freedom for the individual can best be preserved in Ireland by the +maintenance of the Union, and that the world spirit is with the great +empires. + +4. The second political group may be described as the spiritual +inheritors of the more ancient race in Ireland. They regard the +preservation of their nationality as a sacred charge, themselves as a +conquered people owing no allegiance to the dominant race. They cannot +be called traitors to it because neither they nor their predecessors +have ever admitted the right of another people to govern them against +their will. They are inspired by an ancient history, a literature +stretching beyond the Christian era, a national culture and distinct +national ideals which they desire to manifest in a civilization which +shall not be an echo or imitation of any other. While they do not +depreciate the worth of English culture or its political system they are +as angry at its being imposed on them as a young man with a passion for +art would be if his guardian insisted on his adopting another profession +and denied him any chance of manifesting his own genius. Few hatreds +equal those caused by the denial or obstruction of national aptitudes. +Many of those who fought in the last Irish insurrection were fighters +not merely for a political change but were rather desperate and +despairing champions of a culture which they held was being stifled from +infancy in Irish children in the schools of the nation. They believe +that the national genius cannot manifest itself in a civilization and +is not allowed to manifest itself while the Union persists. They wish +Ireland to be as much itself as Japan, and as free to make its own +choice of political principles, its culture and social order, and +to develop its industries unfettered by the trade policy of their +neighbors. Their mood is unconquerable, and while often overcome it +has emerged again and again in Irish history, and it has perhaps more +adherents today than at any period since the Act of Union, and this +has been helped on by the incarnation of the Gaelic spirit in the modern +Anglo-Irish literature, and a host of brilliant poets, dramatists and +prose writers who have won international recognition, and have increased +the dignity of spirit and the self-respect of the followers of this +tradition. They assert that the Union kills the soul of the people; that +empires do not permit the intensive cultivation of human life: that +they destroy the richness and variety of existence by the extinction of +peculiar and unique gifts, and the substitution therefor of a culture +which has its value mainly for the people who created it, but is as +alien to our race as the mood of the scientist is to the artist or poet. + +5. The third group occupies a middle position between those who desire +the perfecting of the Union and those whose claim is for complete +independence: and because they occupy a middle position, and have taken +coloring from the extremes between which they exist they have been +exposed to the charge of insincerity, which is unjust so far as the best +minds among them are concerned. They have aimed at a middle course, not +going far enough on one side or another to secure the confidence of the +extremists. They have sought to maintain the connection with the empire, +and at the same time to acquire an Irish control over administration +and legislation. They have been more practical than ideal, and to their +credit must be placed the organizing of the movements which secured most +of the reforms in Ireland since the Union, such as religious equality, +the acts securing to farmers fair rents and fixity of tenure, the wise +and salutary measures making possible the transfer of land from landlord +to tenant, facilities for education at popular universities, the +laborers' acts and many others. They are a practical party taking what +they could get, and because they could show ostensible results they have +had a greater following in Ireland than any other party. This is natural +because the average man in all countries is a realist. But this reliance +on material results to secure support meant that they must always show +results, or the minds of their countrymen veered to those ultimates +and fundamentals which await settlement here as they do in all +civilizations. As in the race with Atalanta the golden apples had to be +thrown in order to win the race. The intellect of Ireland is now fixed +on fundamentals, and the compromise this middle party is able to offer +does not make provision for the ideals of either of the extremists, and +indeed meets little favor anywhere in a country excited by recent +events in world history, where revolutionary changes are expected and a +settlement far more in accord with fundamental principles. + +6. It is possible that many of the rank and file of these parties will +not at first agree with the portraits painted of their opponents, and +that is because the special pleaders of the press, who in Ireland are, +as a rule, allowed little freedom to state private convictions, have +come to regard themselves as barristers paid to conduct a case, and have +acquired the habit of isolating particular events, the hasty speech or +violent action of individuals in localities, and of exhibiting these as +indicating the whole character of the party attacked. They misrepresent +Irishmen to each other. The Ulster advocates of the Union, for example, +are accustomed to hear from their advisers that the favorite employment +of Irish farmers in the three southern provinces is cattle driving, if +not worse. They are told that Protestants in these provinces live in +fear of their lives, whereas anybody who has knowledge of the true +conditions knows that, so far from being riotous and unbusinesslike, +the farmers in these provinces have developed a net-work of rural +associations, dairies, bacon factories, agricultural and poultry +societies, etc., doing their business efficiently, applying the +teachings of science in their factories, competing in quality of output +with the very best of the same class of society in Ulster and obtaining +as good prices in the same market. As a matter of fact this method of +organization now largely adopted by Ulster farmers was initiated in the +South. With regard to the charge of intolerance I do not believe it. +Here, as in all other countries, there are unfortunate souls obsessed by +dark powers, whose human malignity takes the form of religious hatreds, +but I believe, and the thousands of Irish Protestants in the Southern +Counties will affirm it as true that they have nothing to complain of in +this respect. I am sure that in this matter of religious tolerance these +provinces can stand favorable comparison with any country in the world +where there are varieties of religions, even with Great Britain. I would +plead with my Ulster compatriots not to gaze too long or too credulously +into that distorting mirror held up to them, nor be tempted to take +individual action as representative of the mass. How would they like +to have the depth or quality of spiritual life in their great city +represented by the scrawlings and revilings about the head of the +Catholic Church to be found occasionally on the blank walls of Belfast. +If the same method of distortion by selection of facts was carried out +there is not a single city or nation which could not be made to appear +baser than Sodom or Gomorrah and as deserving of their fate. + +7. The Ulster character is better appreciated by Southern Ireland, and +there is little reason to vindicate it against any charges except the +slander that Ulster Unionists do not regard themselves as Irishmen, and +that they have no love for their own country. Their position is that +they are Unionists, not merely because it is for the good of Great +Britain, but because they hold it to be for the good of Ireland, and it +is the Irish argument weighs with them, and if they were convinced it +would be better for Ireland to be self-governed they would throw in +their lot with the rest of Ireland, which would accept them gladly and +greet them as a prodigal son who had returned, having made, unlike most +prodigal sons, a fortune, and well able to be the wisest adviser in +family affairs. It is necessary to preface what I have to say by way of +argument or remonstrance to Irish parties by words making it clear that +I write without prejudice against any party, and that I do not in the +least underestimate their good qualities or the weight to be attached +to their opinions and ideals. It is the traditional Irish way, which +we have too often forgotten, to notice the good in the opponent before +battling with what is evil. So Maeve, the ancient Queen of Connacht, +looking over the walls of her city of Cruachan at the Ulster foemen, +said of them, "Noble and regal is their appearance," and her own +followers said, "Noble and regal are those of whom you speak." When we +lost the old Irish culture we lost the tradition of courtesy to each +other which lessens the difficulties of life and makes it possible to +conduct controversy without creating bitter memories. + +8. I desire first to argue with Irish Unionists whether it is accurate +to say of them, as it would appear to be from their spokesmen, that the +principle of nationality cannot be recognized by them or allowed to take +root in the commonwealth of dominions which form the Empire. Must one +culture only exist? Must all citizens have their minds poured into +the same mould, and varieties of gifts and cultural traditions be +extinguished? What would India with its myriad races say to that theory? +What would Canada enclosing in its dominion and cherishing a French +Canadian nation say? Unionists have by every means in their power +discouraged the study of the national literature of Ireland though it +is one of the most ancient in Europe, though the scholars of France and +Germany have founded journals for its study, and its beauty is being +recognized by all who have read it. It contains the race memory of +Ireland, its imaginations and thoughts for two thousand years. Must that +be obliterated? Must national character be sterilized of all taint of +its peculiar beauty? Must Ireland have no character of its own but be +servilely imitative of its neighbor in all things and be nothing of +itself? It is objected that the study of Irish history, Irish literature +and the national culture generates hostility to the Empire. Is that a +true psychological analysis? Is it not true in all human happenings +that if people are denied what is right and natural they will instantly +assume an attitude of hostility to the power which denies? The hostility +is not inherent in the subject but is evoked by the denial. I put it +to my Unionist compatriots that the ideal is to aim at a diversity of +culture, and the greatest freedom, richness and variety of thought. The +more this richness and variety prevail in a nation the less likelihood +is there of the tyranny of one culture over the rest. We should aim in +Ireland at that freedom of the ancient Athenians, who, as Pericles said, +listened gladly to the opinions of others and did not turn sour faces +on those who disagreed with them. A culture which is allowed essential +freedom to develop will soon perish if it does not in itself contain the +elements of human worth which make for immortality. The world has to its +sorrow many instances of freak religions which were persecuted and by +natural opposition were perpetuated and hardened in belief. We should +allow the greatest freedom in respect of cultural developments in +Ireland so that the best may triumph by reason of superior beauty and +not because the police are relied upon to maintain one culture in a +dominant position. + +9. I have also an argument to address to the extremists whose claim, +uttered lately with more openness and vehemence, is for the complete +independence of the whole of Ireland, who cry out against partition, who +will not have a square mile of Irish soil subject to foreign rule. +That implies they desire the inclusion of Ulster and the inhabitants +of Ulster in their Irish State. I tell them frankly that if they expect +Ulster to throw its lot in with a self-governing Ireland they must +remain within the commonwealth of dominions which constitute the Empire, +be prepared loyally, once Ireland has complete control over its internal +affairs, to accept the status of a dominion and the responsibilities of +that wider union. If they will not accept that status as the Boers did, +they will never draw that important and powerful Irish party into an +Irish State except by force, and do they think there is any possibility +of that? It is extremely doubtful whether if the world stood aloof, and +allowed Irishmen to fight out their own quarrels among themselves, that +the fighters for complete independence could conquer a community so +numerous, so determined, so wealthy, so much more capable of providing +for themselves the plentiful munitions by which alone one army can hope +to conquer another. In South Africa men who had fiercer traditional +hostilities than Irishmen of different parties here have had, who +belonged to different races, who had a few years before been engaged in +a racial war, were great enough to rise above these past antagonisms, +to make an agreement and abide faithfully by it. Is the same magnanimity +not possible in Ireland? I say to my countrymen who cry out for the +complete separation of Ireland from the Empire, that they will not in +this generation bring with them the most powerful and wealthy, if not +the most numerous, party in their country. Complete control of Irish +affairs is a possibility, and I suggest to the extremists that the +status of a self-governing dominion inside a federation of dominions +is a proposal which, if other safeguards for minority interests are +incorporated, would attract Unionist attention. But if these men who +depend so much in their economic enterprises upon a friendly relation +with their largest customers are to be allured into self-governing +Ireland there must be acceptance of the Empire as an essential +condition. The Boers found it not impossible to accept this status for +the sake of a United South Africa. Are our Irish Boers not prepared +to make a compromise and abide by it loyally for the sake of a United +Ireland? + +10. A remonstrance must also be addressed to the middle party in that +it has made no real effort to understand and conciliate the feelings of +Irish Unionists. They have indeed made promises, no doubt sincerely, but +they have undone the effect of all they said by encouraging of recent +years the growth of sectarian organizations with political aims and have +relied on these as on a party machine. It may be said that in Ulster +a similar organization, sectarian with political objects, has long +existed, and that this justified a counter organization. Both in +my opinion are unjustifiable and evil, but the backing of such an +organization was specially foolish in the case of the majority, whose +main object ought to be to allure the minority into the same political +fold. The baser elements in society, the intriguers, the job seekers, +and all who would acquire by influence what they cannot attain by merit, +flock into such bodies, and create a sinister impression as to their +objects and deliberations. If we are to have national concord among +Irishmen religion must be left to the Churches whose duty it is to +promote it, and be dissevered from party politics, and it should +be regarded as contrary to national idealism to organize men of one +religion into secret societies with political or economic aims. So shall +be left to Caesar the realm which is Caesar's, and it shall not appear +part of the politics of eternity that Michael's sister's son obtains a +particular post beginning at thirty shillings a week. I am not certain +that it should not be an essential condition of any Irish settlement +that all such sectarian organizations should be disbanded in so far as +their objects are political, and remain solely as friendly societies. It +is useless assuring a minority already suspicious, of the tolerance it +may expect from the majority, if the party machine of the majority is +sectarian and semi-secret, if no one of the religion of the minority can +join it. I believe in spite of the recent growth of sectarian societies +that it has affected but little the general tolerant spirit in Ireland, +and where the evils have appeared they have speedily resulted in the +break up of the organization in the locality. Irishmen individually as +a rule are much nobler in spirit than the political organizations they +belong to. + +11. It is necessary to speak with the utmost frankness and not to slur +over any real difficulty in the way of a settlement. Irish parties must +rise above themselves if they are to bring about an Irish unity. They +appear on the surface irreconcilable, but that, in my opinion, is +because the spokesmen of parties are under the illusion that they should +never indicate in public that they might possibly abate one jot of the +claims of their party. A crowd or organization is often more extreme +than its individual members. I have spoken to Unionists and Sinn Feiners +and find them as reasonable in private as they are unreasonable in +public. I am convinced that an immense relief would be felt by all +Irishmen if a real settlement of the Irish question could be arrived at, +a compromise which would reconcile them to living under one government, +and would at the same time enable us to live at peace with our +neighbors. The suggestions which follow were the result of discussions +between a group of Unionists, Nationalists and Sinn Feiners, and as they +found it possible to agree upon a compromise it is hoped that the policy +which harmonized their diversities may help to bring about a similar +result in Ireland. + +12. I may now turn to consider the Anglo-Irish problem and to make +specific suggestions for its solution and the character of the +government to be established in Ireland. The factors are triple. +There is first the desire many centuries old of Irish nationalists for +self-government and the political unity of the people: secondly, there +is the problem of the Unionists who require that the self-governing +Ireland they enter shall be friendly to the imperial connection, and +that their religious and economic interests shall be safeguarded by real +and not merely by verbal guarantees; and, thirdly, there is the +position of Great Britain which requires, reasonably enough, that any +self-governing dominion set up alongside it shall be friendly to +the Empire. In this matter Great Britain has priority of claim to +consideration, for it has first proposed a solution, the Home Rule Act +which is on the Statute Book, though later variants of that have been +outlined because of the attitude of Unionists in North-East Ulster, +variants which suggest the partition of Ireland, the elimination of six +counties from the area controlled by the Irish government. This Act, or +the variants of it offered to Ireland, is the British contribution to +the settlement of the Anglo-Irish problem. + +13. If it is believed that this scheme, or any diminutive of it, will +settle the Anglo-Irish problem, British statesmen and people who trust +them are only preparing for themselves bitter disappointment. I believe +that nothing less than complete self-government has ever been the object +of Irish Nationalism. However ready certain sections have been to accept +installments, no Irish political leader had authority to pledge his +countrymen to ever accept a half measure as a final settlement of the +Irish claim. The Home Rule Act, if put into operation tomorrow, even if +Ulster were cajoled or coerced into accepting it, would not be regarded +by Irish Nationalists as a final settlement, no matter what may be +said at Westminster. Nowhere in Ireland has it been accepted as final. +Received without enthusiasm at first, every year which has passed +since the Bill was introduced has seen the system of self-government +formulated there subjected to more acute and hostile criticism: and I +believe it would be perfectly accurate to say that its passing tomorrow +would only be the preliminary for another agitation, made fiercer by the +unrest of the world, where revolutions and the upsetting of dynasties +are in the air, and where the claims of nationalities no more ancient +than the Irish, like the Poles, the Finns, and the Arabs, to political +freedom are admitted by the spokesmen of the great powers, Great Britain +included, or are already conceded. If any partition of Ireland is +contemplated this will intensify the bitterness now existing. I believe +it is to the interest of Great Britain to settle the Anglo-Irish +dispute. It has been countered in many of its policies in America and +the Colonies by the vengeful feelings of Irish exiles. There may yet +come a time when the refusal of the Irish mouse to gnaw at a net spread +about the lion may bring about the downfall of the Empire. It cannot be +to the interest of Great Britain to have on its flank some millions of +people who, whenever Great Britain is engaged in a war which threatens +its existence, feel a thrill running through them, as prisoners do +hearing the guns sounding closer of an army which comes, as they think, +to liberate them. Nations denied essential freedom ever feel like that +when the power which dominates them is itself in peril. Who can doubt +but for the creation of Dominion Government in South Africa that the +present war would have found the Boers thirsty for revenge, and the +Home Government incapable of dealing with a distant people who taxed its +resources but a few years previously. I have no doubt that if Ireland +was granted the essential freedom and wholeness in its political life +it desires, its mood also would be turned. I have no feelings of race +hatred, no exultation in thought of the downfall of any race; but as a +close observer of the mood of millions in Ireland, I feel certain that +if their claim is not met they will brood and scheme and Wait to strike +a blow, though the dream may be handed on from them to their children +and their children's children, yet they will hope, sometime, to give the +last vengeful thrust of enmity at the stricken heart of the Empire. + +14. Any measure which is not a settlement which leaves Ireland still +actively discontented is a waste of effort, and the sooner English +statesmen realize the futility of half measures the better. A man who +claims a debt he believes is due to him, who is offered half of it in +payment, is not going to be conciliated or to be one iota more friendly, +if he knows that the other is able to pay the full amount and it could +be yielded without detriment to the donor. Ireland will never be content +with a system of self-government which lessens its representation in the +Imperial Parliament, and still retains for that Parliament control over +all-important matters like taxation and trade policy. Whoever controls +these controls the character of an Irish civilization, and the demand +of Ireland is not merely for administrative powers, but the power to +fashion its own national policy, and to build up a civilization of +its own with an economic character in keeping by self-devised and +self-checked efforts. To misunderstand this is to suppose there is +no such thing as national idealism, and that a people will accept +substitutes for the principle of nationality, whereas the past history +of the world and present circumstance in Europe are evidence that +nothing is more unconquerable and immortal than national feeling, and +that it emerges from centuries of alien government, and is ready at any +time to flare out in insurrection. At no period in Irish history was +that sentiment more self-conscious than it is today. + +15. Nationalist Ireland requires that the Home Rule Act should be +radically changed to give Ireland unfettered control over taxation, +customs, excise and trade policy. These powers are at present denied, +and if the Act were in operation, Irish people instead of trying to make +the best of it, would begin at once to use whatever powers they had as +a lever to gain the desired control, and this would lead to fresh +antagonism and a prolonged struggle between the two countries, and +in this last effort Irish Nationalists would have the support of that +wealthy class now Unionist in the three southern provinces, and also +in Ulster if it were included, for they would then desire as much as +Nationalists that, while they live in a self-governing Ireland, the +powers of the Irish government should be such as would enable it to +build up Irish industries by an Irish trade policy, and to impose +taxation in a way to suit Irish conditions. As the object of British +consent to Irish self-government is to dispose of Irish antagonism +nothing is to be gained by passing measures which will not dispose of +it. The practically unanimous claim of Nationalists as exhibited in +the press in Ireland is for the status and power of economic control +possessed by the self-governing dominions. By this alone will the causes +of friction between the two nations be removed, and a real solidarity of +interest based on a federal union for joint defense of the freedom and +well-being of the federated communities be possible and I have no doubt +it would take place. I do not believe that hatreds remain for long among +people when the causes which created them are removed. We have seen in +Europe and in the dominions the continual reversals of feeling which +have taken place when a sore has been removed. Antagonisms are replaced +by alliances. It is mercifully true of human nature that it prefers to +exercise goodwill to hatred when it can, and the common sense of the +best in Ireland would operate once there was no longer interference +in our internal affairs, to allay and keep in order these turbulent +elements which exist in every country, but which only become a danger to +society when real grievances based on the violation of true principles +of government are present. + +16. The Union has failed absolutely to conciliate Ireland. Every +generation there have been rebellions and shootings and agitations of +a vehement and exhausting character carried continually to the point +of lawlessness before Irish grievances could be redressed. A form of +government which requires a succession of rebellions to secure +reforms afterwards admitted to be reasonable cannot be a good form of +government. These agitations have inflicted grave material and +moral injury on Ireland. The instability of the political system has +prejudiced natural economic development. Capital will not be invested +in industries where no one is certain about the future. And because +the will of the people was so passionately set on political freedom an +atmosphere of suspicion gathered around public movements which in other +countries would have been allowed to carry on their beneficent work +unhindered by any party. Here they were continually being forced to +declare themselves either for or against self-government. The long +attack on the movement for the organization of Irish agriculture was +an instance. Men are elected on public bodies not because they are +efficient administrators, but because they can be trusted to pass +resolutions favoring one party or another. This has led to corruption. +Every conceivable rascality in Ireland has hid itself behind the great +names of nation or empire. The least and the most harmless actions of +men engaged in philanthropic or educational work or social reform are +scrutinized and criticized so as to obstruct good work. If a phrase even +suggests the possibility of a political partiality, or a tendency to +anything which might be construed by the most suspicious scrutineer to +indicate a remote desire to use the work done as an argument either +for or against self-government the man or movement is never allowed to +forget it. Public service becomes intolerable and often impossible +under such conditions, and while the struggle continues this also will +continue to the moral detriment of the people. There are only two forms +of government possible. A people may either be governed by force or may +govern themselves. The dual government of Ireland by two Parliaments, +one sitting in Dublin and one in London, contemplated in the Home Rule +Act, would be impossible and irritating. Whatever may be said for two +bodies each with their spheres of influence clearly defined, there +is nothing to be said for two legislatures with concurrent powers of +legislation and taxation, and with members from Ireland retained at +Westminster to provide some kind of democratic excuse for the exercise +of powers of Irish legislation and taxation by the Parliament at +Westminster. The Irish demand is that Great Britain shall throw upon our +shoulders the full weight of responsibility for the management of our +own affairs, so that we can only blame ourselves and our political +guides and not Great Britain if we err in our policies. + +17. I have stated what I believe to be sound reasons for the recognition +of the justice of the Irish demand by Great Britain and I now turn to +Ulster, and ask it whether the unstable condition of things in Ireland +does not affect it even more than Great Britain. If it persists in its +present attitude, if it remains out of a self-governing Ireland, it will +not thereby exempt itself from political, social and economic trouble. +Ireland will regard the six Ulster counties as the French have regarded +Alsace-Lorraine, whose hopes of reconquest turned Europe into an armed +camp, with the endless suspicions, secret treaties, military and naval +developments, the expense of maintaining huge armies, and finally the +inevitable war. So sure as Ulster remains out, so surely will it become +a focus for nationalist designs. I say nothing of the injury to the +great wholesale business carried on from its capital city throughout the +rest of Ireland where the inevitable and logical answer of merchants +in the rest of Ireland to requests for orders will be: "You would die +rather than live in the same political house with us. We will die rather +than trade with you." There will be lamentably and inevitably a fiercer +tone between North and South. Everything that happens in one quarter +will be distorted in the other. Each will lie about the other. The +materials will exist more than before for civil commotion, and this +will be aided by the powerful minority of Nationalists in the excluded +counties working in conjunction with their allies across the border. +Nothing was ever gained in life by hatred; nothing good ever came of +it or could come of it; and the first and most important of all the +commandments of the spirit that there should be brotherhood between +men will be deliberately broken to the ruin of the spiritual life of +Ireland. + +18. So far from Irish Nationalists wishing to oppress Ulster, I believe +that there is hardly any demand which could be made, even involving +democratic injustice to themselves, which would not willingly be granted +if their Ulster compatriots would fling their lot in with the rest of +Ireland and heal the eternal sore. I ask Ulster what is there that they +could not do as efficiently in an Ireland with the status and economic +power of a self-governing dominion as they do at present. Could they not +build their ships and sell them, manufacture and export their linens? +What do they mean when they say Ulster industries would be taxed? I +cannot imagine any Irish taxation which their wildest dreams imagined +so heavy as the taxation which they will endure as part of the United +Kingdom in future. They will be implicated in all the revolutionary +legislation made inevitable in Great Britain by the recoil on society +of the munition workers and disbanded conscripts. Ireland, which luckily +for itself, has the majority of its population economically independent +as workers on the land, and which, in the development of agriculture now +made necessary as a result of changes in naval warfare, will be able to +absorb without much trouble its returning workers. Ireland will be much +quieter, less revolutionary and less expensive to govern. I ask what +reason is there to suppose that taxation in a self-governing Ireland +would be greater than in Great Britain after the war, or in what way +Ulster industries could be singled out, or for what evil purpose by an +Irish Parliament? It would be only too anxious rather to develop still +further the one great industrial centre in Ireland; and would, it is +my firm conviction, allow the representatives of Ulster practically to +dictate the industrial policy of Ireland. Has there ever at any time +been the slightest opposition by any Irish Nationalist to proposals made +by Ulster industrialists which would lend color to such a suspicion? +Personally, I think that Ulster without safeguards of any kind might +trust its fellow-countrymen; the weight, the intelligence, the vigor +of character of Ulster people in any case would enable them to dominate +Ireland economically. But I do not for a moment say that Ulster is not +justified in demanding safeguards. Its leader, speaking at Westminster +during one of the debates on the Home Rule Bill, said scornfully, "We +do not fear oppressive legislation. We know in fact there would be none. +What we do fear is oppressive administration." That I translate to mean +that Ulster feels that the policy of the spoils to the victors would be +adopted, and that jobbery in Nationalist and Catholic interests would be +rampant. There are as many honest Nationalists and Catholics who would +object to this as there are Protestant Unionists, and they would readily +accept as part of any settlement the proposal that all posts which can +rightly be filled by competitive examination shall only be filled after +examination by Irish Civil Service Commissioners, and that this should +include all posts paid for out of public funds whether directly +under the Irish Government or under County Councils, Urban Councils, +Corporations, or Boards of Guardians. Further, they would allow +the Ulster Counties through their members a veto on any important +administrative position where the area of the official's operation was +largely confined to North-East Ulster, if such posts were of a character +which could not rightly be filled after examination and-must needs be a +government appointment. I have heard the suspicion expressed that Gaelic +might be made a subject compulsory on all candidates, and that this +would prejudice the chances of Ulster candidates desirous of entering +the Civil Service. Nationalist opinion would readily agree that, if +marks were given for Gaelic, an alternative language, such as French or +German, should be allowed the candidate as a matter of choice and the +marks given be of equal value. By such concession jobbery would be made +impossible. The corruption and bribery now prevalent in local government +would be a thing of the past. Nationalists and Unionists alike would +be assured of honest administration and that merit and efficiency, not +membership of some sectarian or political association, would lead to +public service. + +20. If that would not be regarded as adequate protection Nationalists +are ready to consider with friendly minds any other safeguards proposed +either by Ulster or Southern Unionists, though in my opinion the less +there are formal and legal acknowledgments of differences the better, +for it is desirable that Protestant and Catholic, Unionist and +Nationalist should meet and redivide along other lines than those of +religion or past party politics, and it is obvious that the raising of +artificial barriers might perpetuate the present lines of division. +A real settlement is impossible without the inclusion of the whole +province in the Irish State, and apart from the passionate sentiment +existing in Nationalist Ireland for the unity of the whole country +there are strong economic bonds between Ulster and the three provinces. +Further, the exclusion of all or a large part of Ulster would make the +excluded part too predominantly industrial and the rest of Ireland too +exclusively agricultural, tending to prevent that right balance between +rural and urban industry which all nations should aim at and which +makes for a varied intellectual life, social and political wisdom and +a healthy national being. Though for the sake of obliteration of past +differences I would prefer as little building by legislation of fences +isolating one section of the community from another, still I am certain +that if Ulster, as the price of coming into a self-governing Ireland, +demanded some application of the Swiss Cantonal system to itself which +would give it control over local administration it could have it; or, +again, it could be conceded the powers of local control vested in the +provincial governments in Canada, where the provincial assemblies have +exclusive power to legislate for themselves in respect of local works, +municipal institutions, licenses, and administration of justice in +the province. Further, subject to certain provisions protecting the +interests of different religious bodies, the provincial assemblies have +the exclusive power to make laws upon education. Would not this give +Ulster all the guarantees for civil and religious liberty it requires? +What arguments of theirs, what fears have they expressed which would not +be met by such control over local administration? I would prefer that +the mind of Ulster should argue its points with the whole of Ireland and +press its ideals upon it without reservation of its wisdom for itself. +But doubtless if Ulster accepted this proposal it would benefit the rest +of Ireland by the model it would set of efficient administration: and +it would, I have no doubt, insert in its provincial constitution all the +safeguards for minorities there which they would ask should be +inserted in any Irish constitution to protect the interest of their +co-religionists in that part of Ireland where they are in a minority. + +21. I can deal only with fundamentals in this memorandum, because it +is upon fundamentals there are differences of thinking. Once these are +settled it would be comparatively easy to devise the necessary clauses +in an Irish constitution, giving safeguards to England for the due +payment of the advances under the Land Acts, and the principles upon +which an Irish contribution should be made to the empire for naval +and military purposes. It was suggested by Mr. Lionel Curtis in his +"Problems of the Commonwealth," that assessors might be appointed by the +dominions to fix the fair taxable capacity of each for this purpose. It +will be observed that while I have claimed for Ireland the status of a +dominion, I have referred solely hitherto to the powers of control over +trade policy, customs, excise, taxation and legislation possessed by the +dominions, and have not claimed for Ireland the right to have an army +or a navy of its own. I recognize that the proximity of the two islands +makes it desirable to consolidate the naval power under the control of +the Admiralty. The regular army should remain in the same way under +the War Office which would have the power of recruiting in Ireland. The +Irish Parliament would, I have no doubt, be willing to raise at its own +expense under an Irish Territorial Council a Territorial Force similar +to that of England but not removable from Ireland. Military conscription +could never be permitted except by Act of the Irish Parliament. It +would be a denial of the first principle of nationality if the power +of conscripting the citizens of the country lay not in the hands of the +National Parliament but was exercised by another nation. + +22. While a self-governing Ireland would contribute money to the defense +of the federated empire, it would not be content that that money +should be spent on dockyards, arsenals, camps, harbors, naval stations, +ship-building and supplies in Great Britain to the almost complete +neglect of Ireland as at present. A large contribution for such purposes +spent outside Ireland would be an economic drain if not balanced by +counter expenditure here. This might be effected by the training of a +portion of the navy and army and the Irish regiments of the regular +army in Ireland, and their equipment, clothing, supplies, munitions +and rations being obtained through an Irish department. Naval dockyards +should be constructed here and a proportion of ships built in them. Just +as surely as there must be a balance between the imports and exports of +a country, so must there be a balance between the revenue raised in +a nation and the public expenditure on that nation. Irish economic +depression after the Act of Union was due in large measure to absentee +landlordism and the expenditure of Irish revenue outside Ireland with +no proportionate return. This must not be expected to continue against +Irish interests. Ireland, granted the freedom it desires, would be +willing to defend its freedom and the freedom of other dominions in the +commonwealth of nations it belonged to, but it is not willing to allow +millions to be raised in Ireland and spent outside Ireland. If three or +five millions are raised in Ireland for imperial purposes and spent +in Great Britain it simply means that the vast employment of labor +necessitated takes place outside Ireland: whereas if spent here it +would mean the employment of many thousands of men, the support of their +families, and in the economic chain would follow the support of those +who cater for them in food, clothing, housing, etc. Even with the best +will in the world, to do its share towards its defense of the freedom +it had attained, Ireland could not permit such an economic drain on its +resources. No country could approve of a policy which in its application +means the emigration of thousands of its people every year while it +continued. + +23. I believe even if there were no historical basis for Irish +nationalism that such claims as I have stated would have become +inevitable, because the tendency of humanity as it develops +intellectually and spiritually is to desire more and more freedom, and +to substitute more and more an internal law for the external law or +government, and that the solidarity of empires or nations will depend +not so much upon the close texture of their political organization or +the uniformity of mind so engendered as upon the freedom allowed and the +delight people feel in that freedom. The more educated a man is the more +it is hateful to him to be constrained and the more impossible does it +become for central governments to provide by regulation for the infinite +variety of desires and cultural developments which spring up everywhere +and are in themselves laudable, and in no way endanger the State. A +recognition of this has already led to much decentralization in Great +Britain itself. And if the claim for more power in the administration of +local affairs was so strongly felt in a homogeneous country like Great +Britain that, through its county council system, people in districts +like Kent or Essex have been permitted control over education and the +purchase of land, and the distribution of it to small holders, how much +more passionately must this desire for self-control be felt in Ireland +where people have a different national character which has survived all +the educational experiments to change them into the likeness of their +neighbors. The battle which is going on in the world has been stated to +be a spiritual conflict between those who desire greater freedom for the +individual and think that the State exists to preserve that freedom, +and those who believe in the predominance of the state and the complete +subjection of the individual to it and the molding of the individual +mind in its image. This has been stated, and if the first view is a +declaration of ideals sincerely held by Great Britain it would mean the +granting to Ireland, a country which has expressed its wishes by vaster +majorities than were ever polled in any other country for political +changes, the satisfaction of its desires. + +24. The acceptance of the proposals here made would mean sacrifices for +the two extremes in Ireland, and neither party has as yet made any real +sacrifice to meet the other, but each has gone on its own way. I urge +upon them that if the suggestions made here were accepted both would +obtain substantially what they desire, the Ulster Unionists that +safety for their interests and provision for Ireland's unity with the +commonwealth of dominions inside the empire; the Nationalists that +power they desire to create an Irish civilization by self-devised and +self-checked efforts. The brotherhood of domimons of which they would +form one would be inspired as much by the fresh life and wide democratic +outlook of Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and Canada, as by the +hoarier political wisdom of Great Britain; and military, naval, foreign +and colonial policy must in the future be devised by the representatives +of those dominions sitting in council together with the representatives +of Great Britain. Does not that indicate a different form of imperialism +from that they hold in no friendly memory? It would not be imperialism +in the ancient sense but a federal union of independent nations to +protect national liberties, which might draw into its union other +peoples hitherto unconnected with it, and so beget a league of nations +to make a common international law prevail. The allegiance would be +to common principles which mankind desire and would not permit the +domination of any one race. We have not only to be good Irishmen but +good citizens of the world, and one is as important as the other, for +earth is more and more forcing on its children a recognition of their +fundamental unity, and that all rise and fall and suffer together, and +that none can escape the infection from their common humanity. If these +ideas emerge from the world conflict and are accepted as world morality +it will be some compensation for the anguish of learning the lesson. We +in Ireland like the rest of the world must rise above ourselves and our +differences if we are to manifest the genius which is in us, and play a +noble part in world history. + + + + + +THE NEW NATION + + +In that cycle of history which closed in 1914, but which seems now to +the imagination as far sunken behind time as Babylon or Samarcand, it +was customary at the festival of the Incarnation to forego our enmities +for a little and allow freer play to the spiritual in our being. Since +1914 all things in the world and with us, too, in Ireland have existed +in a welter of hate, but the rhythm of ancient habit cannot altogether +have passed away, and now if at any time, it should be possible to blow +the bugles of Heaven and recall men to that old allegiance. I do not +think it would help now if I, or another, put forward arguments drawn +from Irish history or economics to convince any party that they were +wrong and their opponents right. I think absolute truth might be stated +in respect of these things, and yet it would affect nothing in our +present mood. It would not be recognized any more than Heaven, when It +walked on earth in the guise of a Carpenter, was hailed by men whose +minds were filled by other imaginations of that coming. + +I will not argue about the past, but would ask Irishmen to consider how +in future they may live together. Do they contemplate the continuance of +these bitter hatreds in our own household? The war must have a finale. +Many thousands of Irishmen will return to their country who have faced +death for other ideals than those which inspire many more thousands +now in Ireland and make them also fearless of death. How are these to +co-exist in the same island if there is no change of heart? Each will +receive passionate support from relatives, friends, and parties who +uphold their action. This will be a most unhappy country if we cannot +arrive at some moral agreement, as necessary as a political agreement. +Partition is no settlement, because there is no geographical limitation +of these passions. There is scarce a locality in Ireland where +antagonisms do not gather about the thought of Ireland as in the +caduceus of Mercury the twin serpents writhe about the sceptre of the +god. I ask our national extremists in what mood do they propose to meet +those who return, men of temper as stern as their own? Will these endure +being termed traitors to Ireland? Will their friends endure it? Will +those who mourn their dead endure to hear scornful speech of those they +loved? That way is for us a path to Hell. The unimaginative who see only +a majority in their own locality, or, perhaps, in the nation, do not +realize what a powerful factor in national life are those who differ +from them, and how they are upheld by a neighboring nation which, for +all its present travail, is more powerful by far than Ireland even if +its people were united in purpose as the fingers of one hand. Nor can +those who hold to, and are upheld by, the Empire hope to coerce to a +uniformity of feeling with themselves the millions clinging to Irish +nationality. Seven centuries of repression have left that spirit +unshaken, nor can it be destroyed save by the destruction of the Irish +people, because it springs from biological necessity. As well might a +foolish gardener trust that his apple-tree would bring forth grapes as +to dream that there could be uniformity of character and civilization +between Irishmen and Englishmen. It would be a crime against life if it +could be brought about and diversities of culture and civilization made +impossible. We may live at peace with our neighbors when it is agreed +that we must be different, and no peace is possible in the world between +nations except on this understanding. But I am not now thinking of that, +but of the more urgent problem how we are to live at peace with each +other. I am convinced Irish enmities are perpetuated because we live by +memory more than by hope, and that even now on the facts of character +there is no justification for these enmities. + +We have been told that there are two nations in Ireland. That may have +been so in the past, but it is not true today. The union of Norman and +Dane and Saxon and Celt which has been going on through the centuries is +now completed, and there is but one powerful Irish character--not Celtic +or Norman-Saxon, but a new race. We should recognize our moral identity. +It was apparent before the war in the methods by which Ulstermen and +Nationalists alike strove to defend or win their political objects. +There is scarce an Ulsterman, whether he regards his ancestors as +settlers or not, who is not allied through marriage by his forbears +to the ancient race. There is in his veins the blood of the people who +existed before Patrick, and he can look backward through time to the +legends of the Red Branch, the Fianna and the gods as the legends of +his people. It would be as difficult to find even on the Western Coast a +family which has not lost in the same way its Celtic purity of race. The +character of all is fed from many streams which have mingled in them and +have given them a new distinctiveness. The invasions of Ireland and the +Plantations, however morally unjustifiable, however cruel in method, are +justified by biology. The invasion of one race by another was nature's +ancient way of reinvigorating a people. + +Mr. Flinders Petrie, in his "Revolutions of Civilization," has +demonstrated that civilization comes in waves, that races rise to a +pinnacle of power and culture, and decline from that, and fall into +decadence, from which they do not emerge until there has been a crossing +of races, a fresh intermingling of cultures. He showed in ancient Egypt +eight such periods, and after every decline into decadence there was an +invasion, the necessary precedent to a fresh ascent with reinvigorated +energies. I prefer to dwell upon the final human results of this +commingling of races than upon the tyrannies and conflicts which made it +possible. The mixture of races has added to the elemental force of +the Celtic character a more complex mentality, and has saved us from +becoming, as in our island isolation we might easily have become, thin +and weedy, like herds where there has been too much in-breeding. The +modern Irish are a race built up from many races who have to prove +themselves for the future. Their animosities, based on past history, +have little justification in racial diversity today, for they are a new +people with only superficial cultural and political differences, but +with the same fundamental characteristics. It is hopeless, the dream +held by some that the ancient Celtic character could absorb the new +elements, become dominant once more, and be itself unchanged. It is +equally hopeless to dream the Celtic element could be eliminated. We are +a new people, and not the past, but the future, is to justify this new +nationality. + +I believe it was this powerful Irish character which stirred in Ulster +before the war, leading it to adopt methods unlike the Anglo-Saxon +tradition in politics. I believe that new character, far more than the +spirit of the ancient race, was the ferment in the blood of those who +brought about the astonishing enterprise of Easter Week. Pearse himself, +for all his Gaelic culture, was sired by one of the race he fought +against. He might stand in that respect as a symbol of the new race +which is springing up. We are slowly realizing the vigor of the modern +Irish character just becoming self-conscious of itself. I had met many +men who were in the enterprise of Easter Week and listened to their +spirit their speech, but they had to prove to myself and others by more +than words. I listened with that half-cynical feeling which is customary +with us when men advocate a cause with which we are temperamentally +sympathetic, but about whose realization we are hopeless. I could not +gauge the strength of the new spirit, for words do not by themselves +convey the quality of power in men; and even when the reverberations +from Easter Week were echoing everywhere in Ireland, for a time I, +and many others, thought and felt about those who died as some pagan +concourse in ancient Italy might have felt looking down upon an arena, +seeing below a foam of glorious faces turned to them, the noble, +undismayed, inflexible faces of martyrs, and, without understanding, +have realized that this spirit was stronger than death. I believe that +capacity for sacrifice, that devotion to ideals exists equally among the +opponents of these men. It would have been proved in Ireland, in Ulster, +if the need had arisen. It has been proved on many a battlefield of +Europe. Whatever views we may hold about the relative value of national +or Imperial ideals, we may recognize that there is moral equality where +the sacrifice is equal. No one has more to give than life, and, when +that is given, neither Nationalist nor Imperialist in Ireland can claim +moral superiority for the dead champions of their causes. + +And here I come to the purpose of my letter, which is to deprecate the +scornful repudiation by Irishmen of other Irishmen, which is so common +at present, and which helps to perpetuate our feuds. We are all one +people. We are closer to each other in character than we are to any +other race. The necessary preliminary to political adjustment is moral +adjustment, forgiveness, and mutual understanding. I have been in +council with others of my countrymen for several months, and I noticed +what an obstacle it was to agreement how few, how very few, there were +who had been on terms of friendly intimacy with men of all parties. +There was hardly one who could have given an impartial account of the +ideals and principles of his opponents. Our political differences have +brought about social isolations, and there can be no understanding where +there is no eagerness to meet those who differ from us, and hear the +best they have to say for themselves. This letter is an appeal to +Irishmen to seek out and understand their political opponents. If they +come to know each other, they will come to trust each other, and will +realize their kinship, and will set their faces to the future together, +to build up a civilization which will justify their nationality. + +I myself am Anglo-Irish, with the blood of both races in me, and when +the rising of Easter Week took place all that was Irish in me was +profoundly stirred, and out of that mood I wrote commemorating the dead. +And then later there rose in memory the faces of others I knew who +loved their country, but had died in other battles. They fought in those +because they believed they would serve Ireland, and I felt these were +no less my people. I could hold them also in my heart and pay tribute +to them. Because it was possible for me to do so, I think it is possible +for others; and in the hope that the deeds of all may in the future be +a matter of pride to the new nation I append here these verses I have +written:-- + +To the Memory of Some I knew Who are Dead and Who Loved Ireland. + + Their dream had left me numb and cold, + But yet my spirit rose in pride, + Refashioning in burnished gold + The images of those who died, + Or were shut in the penal cell. + Here's to you, Pearse, your dream not mine, + But yet the thought, for this you fell, + Has turned life's water into wine. + + You who have died on Eastern hills + Or fields of France as undismayed, + Who lit with interlinked wills + The long heroic barricade, + You, too, in all the dreams you had, + Thought of some thing for Ireland done. + Was it not so, Oh, shining lad, + What lured you, Alan Anderson? + + I listened to high talk from you, + Thomas McDonagh, and it seemed + The words were idle, but they grew + To nobleness by death redeemed. + Life cannot utter words more great + Than life may meet by sacrifice, + High words were equaled by high fate, + You paid the price. You paid the price. + + You who have fought on fields afar, + That other Ireland did you wrong + Who said you shadowed Ireland's star, + Nor gave you laurel wreath nor song. + You proved by death as true as they, + In mightier conflicts played your part, + Equal your sacrifice may weigh, + Dear Kettle, of the generous heart. + + The hope lives on age after age, + Earth with its beauty might be won + For labor as a heritage, + For this has Ireland lost a son. + This hope unto a flame to fan + Men have put life by with a smile, + Here's to you Connolly, my man, + Who cast the last torch on the pile. + + You too, had Ireland in your care, + Who watched o'er pits of blood and mire, + From iron roots leap up in air + Wild forests, magical, of fire; + Yet while the Nuts of Death were shed + Your memory would ever stray + To your own isle. Oh, gallant dead-- + This wreath, Will Redmond, on your clay. + + Here's to you, men I never met, + Yet hope to meet behind the veil, + Thronged on some starry parapet, + That looks down upon Innisfail, + And sees the confluence of dreams + That clashed together in our night, + One river, born from many streams, + Roll in one blaze of blinding light. + +December 1917 + + + + + +THE SPIRITUAL CONFLICT + +Prophetic + + +I am told when a gun is fired it recoils with almost as much force as +urges forward the projectile. It is the triumph of the military engineer +that he anticipates and provides for this recoil when designing the +weapon. Nations prepare for war, but do not, as the military engineer in +his sphere does, provide for the recoil on society. It is difficult +to foresee clearly what will happen. Possible changes in territory, +economic results, the effect on a social order receive consideration +while war is being waged. But how war may affect our intellectual and +spiritual life is not always apparent. Material victories are often +spiritual defeats. History has record of nationalities which were +destroyed and causes whose followers were overborne, yet they left their +ideas behind them as a glory in the air, and these incarnated anew +in the minds of the conquerors. Ideas are things which can only be +conquered by a greater beauty or intellectual power, and they are never +more powerful than when they do not come threatening us in alliance +with physical forces. I have no doubt there are many today who watch the +cloud over Europe as we may imagine some Israelite of old gazing on +that awful cloudy pillar wherein was the Lord, in hope or fear for some +revelation of the spirit hidden in cloud and fire. What idea is hidden +in the fiery pillar which moves over Europe? What form will it assume +in its manifestation? How will it exercise dominion over the spirit? +Whatever idea is most powerful in the world must draw to it the +intellect and spirit of humanity, and it will be monarch over their +minds either by reason of their love or hate for it. It is more true +to say we must think of the most powerful than to say we must love the +highest, because even the blind can feel power, while it is rare to have +vision of high things. + +A little over a century ago all the needles of being pointed to France. +A peculiar manifestation of the democratic idea had become the most +powerful thing in the world of moral forces. It went on multiplying +images of itself in men's minds through after generations; and, because +thought, like matter, is subject to the laws of action and reaction, +which indeed is the only safe basis for prophecy, this idea inevitably +found itself opposed by a contrary idea in the world. Today all the +needles of being point to Germany, where the apparition of the organized +State is manifest with every factor, force, and entity co-ordinated, so +that the State might move myriads and yet have the swift freedom of the +athletic individual. The idea that the State exists for the people is +countered by the idea that the individual exists for the State. France +in a violent reaction found itself dominated by a Caesar. Germany may +find itself without a Caesar, but with a social democracy. + +But, if it does, will the idea Europe is fighting be conquered? Was the +French idea conquered either by the European confederation without or by +Napoleon within? It invaded men's minds everywhere; and in few countries +did the democratic ideas operate more powerfully than in these islands, +where the State was a most determined antagonist of their material +manifestations in France. The German idea has sufficient power to unite +the free minds of half the world against it. But is it not already +invading, and Will it not still more invade, the minds of rulers? All +Governments are august kinsmen of each other, and discreetly imitate +each other in policy where it may conduce to power or efficiency. +The efficiency of the highly organized State as a vehicle for the +manifestation of power must today be sinking into the minds of those who +guide the destinies of races. The State in these islands, before a +year of war has passed, has already assumed control over myriads of +industrial enterprises. The back-wash of great wars, their reaction +within the national being after prolonged effort, is social disturbance; +and it seems that the State will be unable easily, after this war, +to relax its autocratic power. There may come a time when it would be +possible for it to do so; but the habit of overlordship will have grown, +there will be many who will wish it to grow still more, and a thousand +reasons can be found why the mastery over national organizations should +be relaxed but little. The recoil on society after the war will be +almost as powerful as the energy expended in conflict; and our political +engineers will have to provide for the recoil. By the analogy of the +French Revolution, by what we see taking place today, it seems safe to +prophesy that the State will become more dominant over the lives of men +than ever before. + +In a quarter of a century there will hardly be anybody so obscure, so +isolated in his employment, that he will not, by the development of the +organized State, be turned round to face it and to recognize it as the +most potent factor in his life. From that it follows of necessity that +literature will be concerned more and more with the shaping of the +character of this Great Being. In free democracies, where the State +interferes little with the lives of men, the mood in literature tends +to become personal and subjective; the poets sing a solitary song about +nature, love, twilight, and the stars; the novelists deal with the +lives of private persons, enlarging individual liberties of action and +thought. Few concern themselves with the character of the State. But +when it strides in, an omnipresent overlord, organizing and directing +life and industry, then the individual imagination must be directed to +that collective life and power. For one writer today concerned with high +politics we may expect to find hundreds engaged in a passionate attempt +to create the new god in their own image. + +This may seem a far-fetched speculation, but not to those who see how +through the centuries humanity has oscillated like a pendulum betwixt +opposing ideals. The greatest reactions have been from solidarity to +liberty and from liberty to solidarity. The religious solidarity of +Europe in the Middle Ages was broken by a passionate desire in the heart +of millions for liberty of thought. A reaction rarely, if ever, brings +people back to a pole deserted centuries before. The coming solidarity +is the domination of the State; and to speculate whether that again will +be broken up by a new religious movement would be to speculate without +utility. What we ought to realize is that these reactions take place +within one being, humanity, and indicate eternal desires of the soul. +They seem to urge on us the idea that there is a pleroma, or human +fullness, in which the opposites may be reconciled, and that the divine +event to which we are moving is a State in which there will be essential +freedom combined with an organic unity. At the last analysis are not +all empires, nationalities, and movements spiritual in their origin, +beginning with desires of the soul and externalizing themselves in +immense manifestations of energy in which the original will is often +submerged and lost sight of? If in their inception national ideals are +spiritual, their final object must also be spiritual, perhaps to make +man a yet freer agent, but acting out of a continual consciousness of +his unity with humanity. The discipline which the highly organized +State imposes on its subjects connects them continuously in thought to +something greater than themselves, and so ennobles the average man. The +freedom which the policy of other nations permits quickens intelligence +and will. Each policy has its own defects; with one a loss in individual +initiative, with the other self-absorption and a lower standard of +citizenship or interest in national affairs. The oscillations in society +provide the corrective. + +We are going to have our free individualism tempered by a more +autocratic action by the State. There are signs that with our enemy the +moral power which attracts the free to the source of their liberty +is being appreciated, and the policy which retained for Britain its +Colonies and secured their support in an hour of peril is contrasted +with the policy of the iron hand in Poland. Neither Germany nor Britain +can escape being impressed by the characteristics of the other in the +shock of conflict. It may seem a paradoxical outcome of the spiritual +conflict Mr. Asquith announced. But history is quick with such ironies. +What we condemned in others is the measure which is meted out to us. +Indeed it might almost be said that all war results in an exchange of +characteristics, and if the element of hatred is strong in the conflict +it will certainly bring a nation to every baseness of the foe it fights. +Love and hate are alike in this, that they change us into the image we +contemplate. We grow nobly like what we adore through love and ignobly +like what we contemplate through hate. It will be well for us if +we remember that all our political ideals are symbols of spiritual +destinies. These clashings of solidarity and freedom will enrich +our spiritual life if we understand of the first that our thirst for +greatness, for the majesty of empire, is a symbol of our final unity +with a greater majesty, and if we remember of the second that, as an old +scripture said, "The universe exists for the purposes of soul." + +1915 + + + + +ON AN IRISH HILL + + +It has been my dream for many years that I might at some time dwell in a +cabin on the hillside in this dear and living land of ours, and there +I would lay my head in the lap of a serene nature, and be on friendly +terms with the winds and mountains who hold enough of unexplored mystery +and infinitude to engage me at present. I would not dwell too far from +men, for above an enchanted valley, only a morning's walk from the +city, is the mountain of my dream. Here, between heaven and earth and my +brothers, there might come on me some foretaste of the destiny which the +great powers are shaping for us in this isle, the mingling of God and +nature and man in a being, one, yet infinite in number. Old tradition +has it that there was in our mysterious past such a union, a sympathy +between man and the elements so complete, that at every great deed of +hero or king the three swelling waves of Fohla responded: the wave +of Toth, the wave of Rury, and the long, slow, white, foaming wave of +Cleena. O mysterious kinsmen, would that today some deed great enough +could call forth the thunder of your response once again! But perhaps +he is now rocked in his cradle who will hereafter rock you into joyous +foam. + +The mountain which I praise has not hitherto been considered one of the +sacred places in Eire, no glittering tradition hangs about it as a lure +and indeed I would not have it considered as one in any special sense +apart from its companions, but I take it here as a type of what any high +place in nature may become for us if well loved; a haunt of deep peace, +a spot where the Mother lays aside veil after veil, until at last the +great Spirit seems in brooding gentleness to be in the boundless fields +alone. I am not inspired by that brotherhood which does not overflow +with love into the being of the elements, not hail in them the same +spirit as that which calls us with so many pathetic and loving voices +from the lives of men. So I build my dream cabin in hope of its wider +intimacy: + + A cabin on the mountain side hid in a grassy nook, + With door and windows open wide, where friendly stars may look; + The rabbit shy can patter in; the winds may enter free + Who throng around the mountain throne in living ecstasy. + And when the sun sets dimmed in eve and purple fills the air, + I think the sacred Hazel Tree is dropping berries there + From starry fruitage waved aloft where Connla's well o'er-flows: + For sure the immortal waters pour through every wind that blows. + I think when night towers up aloft and shakes the trembling dew, + How every high and lonely thought that thrills my being through + Is but a shining berry dropped down through the purple air, + And from the magic tree of life the fruit falls everywhere. + + +The Sacred Hazel was the Celtic branch of the Tree of Life; its scarlet +nuts gave wisdom and inspiration; and fed on this ethereal fruit, the +ancient Gael grew to greatness. Though today none eat of the fruit or +drink the purple flood welling from Connla's fountain, I think that the +fire which still kindles the Celtic races was flashed into their blood +in that magical time, and is our heritage from the Druidic past. It is +still here, the magic and mystery: it lingers in the heart of a people +to whom their neighbors of another world are frequent visitors in the +spirit and over-shadowers of reverie and imagination. + +The earth here remembers her past, and to bring about its renewal she +whispers with honeyed entreaty and lures with bewitching glamour. At +this mountain I speak of it was that our greatest poet, the last and +most beautiful voice of Eire, first found freedom in song, so he tells +me: and it was the pleading for a return to herself that this mysterious +nature first fluted through his lips: + + Come away, O human child, + To the Woods and waters wild + With a faery hand in hand: + +For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. + +Away! yes, yes; to wander on and on under star-rich skies, ever getting +deeper into the net, the love that will not let us rest, the peace above +the desire of love. The village lights in heaven and earth, each with +their own peculiar hint of home, draw us hither and thither, where it +matters not, so the voice calls and the heart-light burns. + +Some it leads to the crowded ways; some it draws apart: and the Light +knows, and not any other, the need and the way. + +If you ask me what has the mountain to do with these inspirations, and +whether the singer would not anywhere out of his own soul have made an +equal song, I answer to the latter, I think not. In these lofty places +the barrier between the sphere of light and the sphere of darkness are +fragile, and the continual ecstasy of the high air communicates itself, +and I have also heard from others many tales of things seen and heard +here which show that the races of the Sidhe are often present. Some have +seen below the mountain a blazing heart of light, others have heard the +Musical beating of a heart, of faery bells, or aerial clashings, and the +heart-beings have also spoken; so it has gathered around itself its own +traditions of spiritual romance and adventures of the soul. + +Let no one call us dreamers when the mind is awake. If we grew forgetful +and felt no more the bitter human struggle--yes. But if we bring to it +the hope and courage of those who are assured of the nearby presence and +encircling love of the great powers? I would bring to my mountain the +weary spirits who are obscured in the fetid city where life decays into +rottenness; and call thither those who are in doubt, the pitiful and +trembling hearts who are skeptic of any hope, and place them where the +dusky vapors of their thought might dissolve in the inner light, and +their doubts vanish on the mountain top where the earthbreath streams +away to the vast, when the night glows like a seraph, and the spirit is +beset by the evidence of a million of suns to the grandeur of the nature +wherein it lives and whose destiny must be its also. + +After all, is not this longing but a search for ourselves, and where +shall we find ourselves at last? Not in this land nor wrapped in these +garments of an hour, but wearing the robes of space whither these voices +out of the illimitable allure us, now with love, and anon with beauty +or power. In our past the mighty ones came glittering across the foam of +the mystic waters and brought their warriors away. + +Perhaps, and this also is my hope, they may again return; Manannan, +on his ocean-sweeping boat, a living creature, diamond-winged, or Lu, +bright as the dawn, on his fiery steed, manned with tumultuous flame, or +some hitherto unknown divinity may stand suddenly by me on the hill, and +hold out the Silver Branch with white blossoms from the Land of Youth, +and stay me ere I depart with the sung call as of old: + + Tarry thou yet, late lingerer in the twilight's glory + Gay are the hills with song: earth's faery children leave + More dim abodes to roam the primrose-hearted eve, + Opening their glimmering lips to breathe some wondrous story. + Hush, not a whisper! Let your heart alone go dreaming. + Dream unto dream may pass: deep in the heart alone + Murmurs the Mighty One his solemn undertone. + Canst thou not see adown the silver cloudland streaming + Rivers of faery light, dewdrop on dewdrop falling, + Starfire of silver flames, lighting the dark beneath? + And what enraptured hosts burn on the dusky heath! + Come thou away with them for Heaven to Earth is calling. + These are Earth's voice--her answer--spirits thronging. + Come to the Land of Youth: the trees grown heavy there + Drop on the purple wave the starry fruit they bear. + Drink! the immortal waters quench the spirit's longing. + Art thou not now, bright one, all sorrow past, in elation, + Filled with wild joy, grown brother-hearted with the vast, + Whither thy spirit wending flits the dim stars past + Unto the Light of Lights in burning adoration. + +1896 + + + + + +RELIGION AND LOVE + + +I have often wondered whether there is not something wrong in our +religious systems in that the same ritual, the same doctrines, the +same aspirations are held to be sufficient both for men and women. The +tendency everywhere is to obliterate distinctions, and if a woman +be herself she is looked upon unkindly. She rarely understands our +metaphysics, and she gazes on the expounder of the mystery of the Logos +with enigmatic eyes which reveal the enchantment of another divinity. +The ancients were wiser than we in this, for they had Aphrodite and Hera +and many another form of the Mighty Mother who bestowed on women their +peculiar graces and powers. Surely no girl in ancient Greece ever sent +up to all-pervading Zeus a prayer that her natural longings might be +fulfilled; but we may be sure that to Aphrodite came many such prayers. +The deities we worship today are too austere for women to approach with +their peculiar desires, and indeed in Ireland the largest number of +our people do not see any necessity for love-making at all, or what +connection spiritual powers have with the affections. A girl, without +repining, will follow her four-legged dowry to the house of a man she +may never have spoken twenty words to before her marriage. We praise our +women for their virtue, but the general acceptance of the marriage as +arranged shows so unemotional, so undesirable a temperament, that it is +not to be wondered at. One wonders was there temptation. + +What the loss to the race may be it is impossible to say, but it is true +that beautiful civilizations are built up by the desire of man to give +his beloved all her desires. Where there is no beloved, but only a +housekeeper, there are no beautiful fancies to create the beautiful +arts, no spiritual protest against the mean dwelling, no hunger build +the world anew for her sake. Aphrodite is outcast and with her many +of the other immortals have also departed. The home life in Ireland is +probably more squalid than with any other people equally prosperous +in Europe. The children begotten without love fill more and more the +teeming asylums. We are without art; literature is despised; we have few +of those industries which spring up in other countries in response to +the desire of woman to make gracious influences pervade the home of her +partner, a desire to which man readily yields, and toils to satisfy if +he loves truly. The desire for beauty has come almost to be regarded as +dangerous, if not sinful; and the woman who is still the natural child +of the Great Mother and priestess of the mysteries, if she betray the +desire to exercise her divinely-given powers, if there be enchantment +in her eyes and her laugh, and if she bewilder too many men, is in our +latest code of morals distinctly an evil influence. The spirit, melted +and tortured with love, which does not achieve its earthly desire, is +held to have wasted its strength, and the judgment which declares the +life to be wrecked is equally severe on that which caused this wild +conflagration in the heart. But the end of life is not comfort but +divine being. We do not regard the life which closed in the martyr's +fire as ended ignobly. The spiritual philosophy which separates +human emotions and ideas, and declares some to be secular and others +spiritual, is to blame. There is no meditation which if prolonged will +not bring us to the same world where religion would carry us, and if a +flower in the wall will lead us to all knowledge, so the understanding +of the peculiar nature of one half of humanity will bring us far on our +journey to the sacred deep. I believe it was this wise understanding +which in the ancient world declared the embodied spirit in man to be +influenced more by the Divine Mind and in woman by the Mighty Mother, by +which nature in its spiritual aspect was understood. In this philosophy, +Boundless Being, when manifested, revealed itself in two forms of life, +spirit and substance; and the endless evolution of its divided rays had +as its root impulse the desire to return to that boundless being. By +many ways blindly or half consciously the individual life strives to +regain its old fullness. The spirit seeks union with nature to pass +from the life of vision into Pure being; and nature, conscious that its +grosser forms are impermanent, is for ever dissolving and leading +its votary to a more distant shrine. "Nature is timid like a woman," +declares an Indian scripture. "She reveals herself shyly and withdraws +again." All this metaphysic will not appear out of place if we regard +women as influenced beyond herself and her conscious life for spiritual +ends. I do not enter a defense of the loveless coquette, but the woman +who has a natural delight in awakening love in men is priestess of +a divinity than which there is none mightier among the rulers of the +heavens. Through her eyes, her laugh, in all her motions, there is +expressed more than she is conscious of herself. The Mighty Mother +through the woman is kindling a symbol of herself in the spirit, and +through that symbol she breathes her secret life into the heart, so that +it is fed from within and is drawn to herself. We remember that with +Dante, the image of a woman became at last the purified vesture of his +spirit through which the mysteries were revealed. We are for ever making +our souls with effort and pain, and shaping them into images which +reveal or are voiceless according to their degree; and the man whose +spirit has been obsessed by a beauty so long brooded upon that he has +almost become that which he contemplated, owes much to the woman who may +never be his; and if he or the world understood aright, he has no cause +of complaint. It is the essentially irreligious spirit of Ireland which +has come to regard love as an unnecessary emotion and the mingling of +the sexes as dangerous. For it is a curious thing that while we commonly +regard ourselves as the most religious people in Europe, the reverse is +probably true. The country which has never produced spiritual thinkers +or religious teachers of whom men have heard if we except Berkeley and +perhaps the remote Johannes Scotus Erigena, cannot pride itself on its +spiritual achievement; and it might seem even more paradoxical, but I +think it would be almost equally true, to say that the first spiritual +note in our literature was struck when a poet generally regarded as +pagan wrote it as the aim of his art to reveal-- + + In all poor foolish things that live a day + Eternal beauty wandering on her way. + +The heavens do not declare the glory of God any more than do shining +eyes, nor the firmament show His handiwork more than the woven wind +of hair, for these were wrought with no lesser love than set the young +stars swimming in seas of joyous and primeval air. If we drink in the +beauty of the night or the mountains, it is deemed to be praise of the +Maker, but if we show an equal adoration of the beauty of man or woman, +it is dangerous, it is almost wicked. Of course it is dangerous; and +without danger there is no passage to eternal things. There is the +valley of the shadow beside the pathway of light, and it always will be +there, and the heavens will never be entered by those who shrink +from it. Spirituality is the power of apprehending formless spiritual +essences, of seeing the eternal in the transitory, and in the things +which are seen the unseen things of which they are the shadow. I call +Mr. Yeats' poetry spiritual when it declares, as in the lines I quoted, +that there is no beauty so trivial that it is not the shadow of the +Eternal Beauty. A country is religious where it is common belief that +all things are instinct with divinity, and where the love between man +and woman is seen as a symbol, the highest we have, of the union of +spirit and nature, and their final blending in the boundless being. For +this reason the lightest desires even, the lightest graces of women have +a philosophical value for what suggestions they bring us of the divinity +behind them. + +As men and women feel themselves more and more to be sharers of +universal aims, they will contemplate in each other and in themselves +that aspect of the boundless being under whose influence they are cast, +and will appeal to it for understanding and power. Time, which is for +ever bringing back the old and renewing it, may yet bring back to us +some counterpart of Aphrodite or Hera as they were understood by the +most profound thinkers of the ancient world; and women may again have +her temples and her mysteries, and renew again her radiant life at its +fountain, and feel that in seeking for beauty she is growing more into +her own ancestral being, and that in its shining forth she is giving to +man, as he may give to her, something of that completeness of spirit of +which it is written, "neither is the man without the woman nor the woman +without the man in the Highest." + +It may seem strange that what is so clear should require statement, but +it is only with a kind of despair the man or woman of religious mind +can contemplate the materialism of our thought about life. It is not +our natural heritage from the past, for the bardic poetry shows that +a heaven lay about us in the mystical childhood of our race, and a +supernatural original was often divined for the great hero, or the +beautiful woman. All this perception has withered away, for religion has +become observance of rule and adherence to doctrine. The first steps +to the goal have been made sufficient in themselves; but religion is +useless unless it has a transforming power, unless it is able "to turn +fishermen into divines," and make the blind see and the deaf hear. +They are no true teachers who cannot rise beyond the world of sense and +darkness and awaken the links within us from earth to heaven, who cannot +see within the heart what are its needs, and who have not the power to +open the poor blind eyes and touch the ears that have heard no sound of +the heavenly harmonies. Our clergymen do their best to deliver us from +what they think is evil, but do not lead us into the Kingdom. They +forget that the faculties cannot be spiritualized by restraint but in +use, and that the greatest evil of all is not to be able to see +the divine everywhere, in life and love no less than in the solemn +architecture of the spheres. In the free play of the beautiful and +natural human relations lie the greatest possibilities of spiritual +development, for heaven is not prayer nor praise but the fullness of +life, which is only divined through the richness and variety of life +on earth. There is a certain infinitude in the emotions of love, +tenderness, pity, joy, and all that is begotten in love, and this +limitless character of the emotions has never received the philosophical +consideration which is due to it, for even laughter may be considered +solemnly, and gaiety and joy in us are the shadowy echoes of that joy +spoken of the radiant Morning Stars, and there is not an emotion in man +or woman which has not, however perverted and muddied in its coming, +in some way flowed from the first fountain. We are no more divided from +supernature than we are from our own bodies, and where the life of +man or woman is naturally most intense it most naturally overflows and +mingles with the subtler and more lovely world within. If religion has +no word to say upon this it is incomplete, and we wander in the narrow +circle of prayers and praise, wondering all the while what is it we are +praising God for, because we feel so melancholy and lifeless. Dante had +a place in his Inferno for the joyless souls, and if his conception +be true the population of that circle will be largely modern Irish. +A reaction against this conventional restraint is setting in, and the +needs of life will perhaps in the future no longer be violated as they +are today; and since it is the pent-up flood of the joy which ought to +be in life which is causing this reaction, and since there is a divine +root in it, it is difficult to say where it might not carry us; I hope +into some renewal of ancient conceptions of the fundamental purpose of +womanhood and its relations to Divine Nature, and that from the temples +where woman may be instructed she will come forth, with strength in +her to resist all pleading until the lover worship in her a divine +womanhood, and that through their love the divided portions of the +immortal nature may come together and be one as before the beginning of +worlds. + +1904 + + + + + +THE RENEWAL OF YOUTH + + + I am a part of all that I have met; + Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' + Gleams that untravel'd world..... + Come, my friends, + 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. + --Ulysses + + +I. + +Humanity is no longer the child it was at the beginning of the world. +The spirit which prompted by some divine intent, flung itself long ago +into a vague, nebulous, drifting nature, though it has endured +through many periods of youth, maturity, and age, has yet had its own +transformations. Its gay, wonderful childhood gave way, as cycle after +cycle coiled itself into slumber, to more definite purposes, and now it +is old and burdened with experiences. It is not an age that quenches its +fire, but it will not renew again the activities which gave it wisdom. +And so it comes that men pause with a feeling which they translate into +weariness of life before the accustomed joys and purposes of their race. +They wonder at the spell which induced their fathers to plot and execute +deeds which seem to them to have no more meaning than a whirl of dust. +But their fathers had this weariness also and concealed it from each +other in fear, for it meant the laying aside of the sceptre, the +toppling over of empires, the chilling of the household warmth, and all +for a voice whose inner significance revealed itself but to one or two +among myriads. + +The spirit has hardly emerged from the childhood with which nature +clothes it afresh at every new birth, when the disparity between the +garment and the wearer becomes manifest: the little tissue of joys +and dreams woven about it is found inadequate for shelter: it trembles +exposed to the winds blowing out of the unknown. We linger at twilight +with some companion, still glad, contented, and in tune with the nature +which fills the orchards with blossom and sprays the hedges with dewy +blooms. The laughing lips give utterance to wishes--ours until +that moment. Then the spirit, without warning, suddenly falls into +immeasurable age: a sphinx-like face looks at us: our lips answer, but +far from the region of elemental being we inhabit, they syllable in +shadowy sound, out of old usage, the response, speaking of a love and a +hope which we know have vanished from us for evermore. So hour by hour +the scourge of the infinite drives us out of every nook and corner of +life we find pleasant. And this always takes place when all is fashioned +to our liking: then into our dream strides the wielder of the lightning: +we get glimpses of a world beyond us thronged with mighty, exultant +beings: our own deeds become infinitesimal to us: the colors of our +imagination, once so shining, grow pale as the living lights of God glow +upon them. We find a little honey in the heart which we make sweeter for +some one, and then another Lover, whose forms are legion, sighs to us +out of its multitudinous being: we know that the old love is gone. There +is a sweetness in song or in the cunning re-imaging of the beauty we +see; but the Magician of the Beautiful whispers to us of his art, how we +were with him when he laid the foundations of the world, and the song is +unfinished, the fingers grow listless. As we receive these intimations +of age our very sins become negative: we are still pleased if a voice +praises us, but we grow lethargic in enterprises where the spur to +activity is fame or the acclamation of men. At some point in the past we +may have struggled mightily for the sweet incense which men offer to a +towering personality; but the infinite is for ever within man: we sighed +for other worlds and found that to be saluted as victor by men did not +mean acceptance by the gods. + +But the placing of an invisible finger upon our lips when we would +speak, the heart-throb of warning where we would love, that we grow +contemptuous of the prizes of life, does not mean that the spirit has +ceased from its labors, that the high-built beauty of the spheres is to +topple mistily into chaos, as a mighty temple in the desert sinks into +the sand, watched only by a few barbarians too feeble to renew its +ancient pomp and the ritual of its once shining congregations. Before +we, who were the bright children of the dawn, may return as the twilight +race into the silence, our purpose must be achieved, we have to assume +mastery over that nature which now overwhelms us, driving into the +Fire-fold the flocks of stars and wandering fires. Does it seem very +vast and far away? Do you sigh at the long, long time? Or does it appear +hopeless to you who perhaps return with trembling feet evening after +evening from a little labor? But it is behind all these things that +the renewal takes place, when love and grief are dead; when they loosen +their hold on the spirit and it sinks back into itself, looking out on +the pitiful plight of those who, like it, are the weary inheritors of so +great destinies: then a tenderness which is the most profound quality of +its being springs up like the outraying of the dawn, and if in that mood +it would plan or execute it knows no weariness, for it is nourished from +the First Fountain. As for these feeble children of the once glorious +spirits of the dawn, only a vast hope can arouse them from so vast a +despair, for the fire will not invigorate them for the repetition of +petty deeds but only for the eternal enterprise, the war in heaven, +that conflict between Titan and Zeus which is part of the never-ending +struggle of the human spirit to assert its supremacy over nature. We, +who he crushed by this mountain nature piled above us, must arise again, +unite to storm the heavens and sit on the seats of the mighty. + + + +II. + + +We speak out of too petty a spirit to each other; the true poems, said +Whitman: + + Bring none to his or to her terminus or to be content and full, + Whom they take they take into space to behold the birth of stars, + to learn one of the meanings, + To launch off with absolute faith, to sweep through the ceaseless + rings and never be quiet again. + +Here is inspiration--the voice of the soul. Every word which really +inspires is spoken as if the Golden Age had never passed. The great +teachers ignore the personal identity and speak to the eternal pilgrim. +Too often the form or surface far removed from beauty makes us falter, +and we speak to that form and the soul is not stirred. But an equal +temper arouses it. To whoever hails in it the lover, the hero, the +magician, it will respond, but not to him who accosts it in the name and +style of its outer self. How often do we not long to break through the +veils which divide us from some one, but custom, convention, or a fear +of being misunderstood prevent us, and so the moment passes whose heat +might have burned through every barrier. Out with it--out with it, the +hidden heart, the love that is voiceless, the secret tender germ of an +infinite forgiveness. That speaks to the heart. That pierces through +many a vesture of the Soul. Our companion struggles in some labyrinth of +passion. We help him, we, think, with ethic and moralities. + +Ah, very well they are; well to know and to keep, but wherefore? For +their own sake? No, but that the King may arise in his beauty. We write +that in letters, in books, but to the face of the fallen who brings back +remembrance? Who calls him by his secret name? Let a man but feel for +what high cause is his battle, for what is his cyclic labor, and a +warrior who is invincible fights for him and he draws upon divine +powers. Our attitude to man and to nature, expressed or not, has +something of the effect of ritual, of evocation. As our aspiration so +is our inspiration. We believe in life universal, in a brotherhood +which links the elements to man, and makes the glow-worm feel far off +something of the rapture of the seraph hosts. Then we go out into the +living world, and what influences pour through us! We are "at league +with the stones of the field." The winds of the world blow radiantly +upon us as in the early time. We feel wrapt about with love, with an +infinite tenderness that caresses us. Alone in our rooms as we ponder, +what sudden abysses of light open within us! The Gods are so much nearer +than we dreamed. We rise up intoxicated with the thought, and reel out +seeking an equal companionship under the great night and the stars. + +Let us get near to realities. We read too much. We think of that which +is "the goal, the Comforter, the Lord, the Witness, the resting-place, +the asylum, and the Friend." Is it by any of these dear and familiar +names? The soul of the modern mystic is becoming a mere hoarding-place +for uncomely theories. He creates an uncouth symbolism, and blinds his +soul within with names drawn from the Kabala or ancient Sanskrit, and +makes alien to himself the intimate powers of his spirit, things which +in truth are more his than the beatings of his heart. Could we not speak +of them in our own tongue, and the language of today will be as sacred +as any of the past. From the Golden One, the child of the divine, comes +a voice to its shadow. It is stranger to our world, aloof from our +ambitions, with a destiny not here to be fulfilled. It says: "You are of +dust while I am robed in opalescent airs. You dwell in houses of clay, +I in a temple not made by hands. I will not go with thee, but thou must +come with me." And not alone is the form of the divine aloof but the +spirit behind the form. It is called the Goal truly, but it has no +ending. It is the Comforter, but it waves away our joys and hopes like +the angel with the flaming sword. Though it is the Resting-place, it +stirs to all heroic strife, to outgoing, to conquest. It is the Friend +indeed, but it will not yield to our desires. Is it this strange, +unfathomable self we think to know, and awaken to, by what is written, +or by study of it as so many planes of consciousness? But in vain we +store the upper chambers of the mind with such quaint furniture of +thought. No archangel makes his abode therein. They abide only in the +shining. No wonder that the Gods do not incarnate. We cannot say we do +pay reverence to these awful powers. We repulse the living truth by +our doubts and reasonings. We would compel the Gods to fall in with +our petty philosophy rather than trust in the heavenly guidance. Ah, to +think of it, those dread deities, the divine Fires, to be so enslaved! +We have not comprehended the meaning of the voice which cried "Prepare +ye the way of the Lord," or this, "Lift up your heads, O ye gates. Be ye +lifted up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of Glory shall come in." +Nothing that we read is useful unless it calls up living things in the +soul. To read a mystic book truly is to invoke the powers. If they do +not rise up plumed and radiant, the apparitions of spiritual things, +then is our labor barren. We only encumber the mind with useless +symbols. They knew better ways long ago. "Master of the Green-waving +Planisphere,... Lord of the Azure Expanse,... it is thus we invoke," +cried the magicians of old. + +And us, let us invoke them with joy, let us call upon them with love, +the Light we hail, or the Divine Darkness we worship with silent breath. +That silence cries aloud to the Gods. Then they will approach us. Then +we may learn that speech of many colors, for they will not speak in our +mortal tongue; they will not answer to the names of men. Their names are +rainbow glories. Yet these are mysteries, and they cannot be reasoned +out or argued over. We cannot speak truly of them from report, or +description, or from what another has written. A relation to the thing +in itself alone is our warrant, and this means we must set aside our +intellectual self-sufficiency and await guidance. It will surely come +to those who wait in trust, a glow, a heat in the heart announcing the +awakening of the Fire. And, as it blows with its mystic breath into the +brain, there is a hurtling of visions, a brilliance of lights, a sound +as of great waters vibrant and musical in their flowing, and murmurs +from a single yet multitudinous being. In such a mood, when the far +becomes near, the strange familiar, and the infinite possible, he wrote +from whose words we get the inspiration: + + To launch off with absolute faith, to sweep through the + ceaseless rings + and never be quiet again. + +Such a faith and such an unrest be ours: faith which is mistrust of the +visible; unrest which is full of a hidden surety and reliance. We, when +we fall into pleasant places, rest and dream our strength away. Before +every enterprise and adventure of the soul we calculate in fear our +power to do. But remember, "Oh, disciple, in thy work for thy brother +thou hast many allies; in the winds, in the air, in all the voices of +the silent shore." These are the far-wandered powers of our own +nature, and they turn again home at our need. We came out of the Great +Mother-Life for the purposes of soul. Are her darlings forgotten where +they darkly wander and strive? Never. Are not the lives of all her +heroes proof? Though they seem to stand alone the eternal Mother keeps +watch on them, and voices far away and unknown to them before arise in +passionate defense, and hearts beat warm to help them. Aye, if we +could look within we would see vast nature stirred on their behalf, and +institutions shaken, until the truth they fight for triumphs, and they +pass, and a wake of glory ever widening behind them trails down the +ocean of the years. + +Thus the warrior within us works, or, if we choose to phrase it so, it +is the action of the spiritual will. Shall we not, then, trust in it and +face the unknown, defiant and fearless of its dangers. Though we seem to +go alone to the high, the lonely, the pure, we need not despair. Let no +one bring to this task the mood of the martyr or of one who thinks he +sacrifices something. Yet let all who will come. Let them enter the +path, facing all things in life and death with a mood at once gay and +reverent, as beseems those who are immortal--who are children today, but +whose hands tomorrow may grasp the sceptre, sitting down with the Gods +as equals and companions. "What a man thinks, that he is: that is the +old secret." In this self-conception lies the secret of life, the way of +escape and return. We have imagined ourselves into littleness, darkness, +and feebleness. We must imagine ourselves into greatness. "If thou wilt +not equal thyself to God thou canst not understand God. The like is only +intelligible by the like." In some moment of more complete imagination +the thought-born may go forth and look on the ancient Beauty. So it was +in the mysteries long ago, and may well be today. The poor dead shadow +was laid to sleep, forgotten in its darkness, as the fiery power, +mounting from heart to head, went forth in radiance. Not then did it +rest, nor ought we. The dim worlds dropped behind it, the lights of +earth disappeared as it neared the heights of the immortals. There was +One seated on a throne, One dark and bright with ethereal glory. It +arose in greeting. The radiant figure laid its head against the breast +which grew suddenly golden, and Father and Son vanished in that which +has no place or name. + + + +III. + + + Who are exiles? as for me + Where beneath the diamond dome + Lies the light on hills or tree + There my palace is and home. + +We are outcasts from Deity, therefore we defame the place of our exile. +But who is there may set apart his destiny from the earth which bore +him? I am one of those who would bring back the old reverence for the +Mother, the magic, the love. I think, metaphysician, you have gone +astray. You would seek within yourself for the fountain of life. Yes, +there is the true, the only light. But do not dream it will lead you +farther away from the earth, but rather deeper into its' heart. By it +you are nourished with those living waters you would drink. You are +yet in the womb and unborn, and the Mother breathes for you the diviner +airs. Dart out your farthest ray of thought to the original, and yet you +have not found a new path of your own. Your ray is still enclosed in +the parent ray, and only on the sidereal streams are you borne to the +freedom of the deep, to the sacred stars whose distance maddens, and to +the lonely Light of Lights. + +Let us, therefore, accept the conditions and address ourselves with +wonder, with awe, with love, as we well may, to that being in whom we +move. I abate no jot of those vaster hopes, yet I would pursue that +ardent aspiration, content as to here and today. I do not believe in a +nature red with tooth and claw. If indeed she appears so terrible to any +it is because they themselves have armed her. Again, behind the anger +of the Gods there is a love. Are the rocks barren? Lay your brow against +them and learn what memories they keep. Is the brown earth unbeautiful? +Yet lie on the breast of the Mother and you shall be aureoled with the +dews of faery. The earth is the entrance to the Halls of Twilight. What +emanations are those that make radiant the dark woods of pine! Round +every leaf and tree and over all the mountains wave the fiery tresses of +that hidden sun which is the soul of the earth and parent of your +soul. But we think of these things no longer. Like the prodigal we have +wandered far from our home, but no more return. We idly pass or wait as +strangers in the halls our spirit built. + + Sad or fain no more to live? + I have pressed the lips of pain + With the kisses lovers give + Ransomed ancient powers again. + +I would raise this shrinking soul to a universal acceptance. What! does +it aspire to the All, and yet deny by its revolt and inner test the +justice of Law? From sorrow we take no less and no more than from +our joys. If the one reveals to the soul the mode by which the power +overflows and fills it here, the other indicates to it the unalterable +will which checks excess and leads it on to true proportion and its +own ancestral ideal. Yet men seem for ever to fly from their destiny +of inevitable beauty; because of delay the power invites and lures no +longer but goes out into the highways with a hand of iron. We look back +cheerfully enough upon those old trials out of which we have passed; but +we have gleaned only an aftermath of wisdom, and missed the full harvest +if the will has not risen royally at the moment in unison with the +will of the Immortal, even though it comes rolled round with terror and +suffering and strikes at the heart of clay. + +Through all these things, in doubt, despair, poverty, sick, feeble, +or baffled, we have yet to learn reliance. "I will not leave thee or +forsake thee" are the words of the most ancient spirit to the spark +wandering in the immensity of its own being. This high courage brings +with it a vision. It sees the true intent in all circumstance out of +which its own emerges to meet it. Before it the blackness melts into +forms of beauty, and back of all illusions is seen the old enchanter +tenderly smiling, the dark, hidden Father enveloping his children. + +All things have their compensations. For what is absent here there is +always, if we seek, a nobler presence about us. + + Captive, see what stars give light + In the hidden heart of clay: + At their radiance dark and bright + Fades the dreamy King of Day. + +We complain of conditions, but this very imperfection it is which +urges us to arise and seek for the Isles of the Immortals. What we lack +recalls the fullness. The soul has seen a brighter day than this and a +sun which never sets. Hence the retrospect: "Thou hast been in Eden +the garden of God; every precious stone was thy covering, the sardius, +topaz, and the diamond, the beryl, the onyx, the jasper, the sapphire, +emerald.... Thou wast upon the holy mountain of God; thou hast walked up +and down in the midst of the stones of fire." We would point out these +radiant avenues of return; but sometimes we feel in our hearts that +we sound but cockney voices as guides amid the ancient temples, the +cyclopean crypts sanctified by the mysteries. To be intelligible we +replace the opalescent shining by the terms of the scientist, and we +prate of occult physiology in the same breath with the Most High. Yet +when the soul has the divine vision it knows not it has a body. Let it +remember, and the breath of glory kindles it no more; it is once again +a captive. After all it does not make the mysteries clearer to speak in +physical terms and do violence to our intuitions. If we ever use these +centres, as fires we shall see them, or they shall well up within us +as fountains of potent sound. We may satisfy people's mind with a +sense correspondence, and their souls may yet hold aloof. We shall only +inspire by the magic of a superior beauty. Yet this too has its dangers. +"Thou hast corrupted thy wisdom by reason of thy brightness," continues +the seer. If we follow too much the elusive beauty of form we will miss +the spirit. The last secrets are for those who translate vision into +being. Does the glory fade away before you? Say truly in your heart, +"I care not. I will wear the robes I am endowed with today." You are +already become beautiful, being beyond desire and free. + + Night and day no more eclipse + Friendly eyes that on us shine, + Speech from old familiar lips. + Playmates of a youth divine. + +To childhood once again. We must regain the lost state. But it is to +the giant and spiritual childhood of the young immortals we must return, +when into their dear and translucent souls first fell the rays of +the father-beings. The men of old were intimates of wind and wave and +playmates of many a brightness long since forgotten. The rapture of +the fire was their rest; their out-going was still consciously through +universal being. By darkened images we may figure something vaguely +akin, as when in rare moments under the stars the big dreamy heart +of childhood is pervaded with quiet and brimmed full with love. Dear +children of the world, so tired today--so weary seeking after the light. +Would you recover strength and immortal vigor? Not one star alone, your +star, shall shed its happy light upon you, but the All you must adore. +Something intimate, secret, unspeakable, akin to thee, will emerge +silently, insensibly, and ally itself with thee as thou gatherest +thyself from the four quarters of the earth. We shall go back to the +world of the dawn, but to a brighter light than that which opened +up this wondrous story of the cycles. The forms of elder years will +reappear in our vision, the father-beings once again. So we shall grow +at home amid these grandeurs, and with that All-Presence about us may +cry in our hearts, "At last is our meeting, Immortal. O starry one, now +is our rest!" + + Come away, oh, come away; + We will quench the heart's desire + Past the gateways of the day + In the rapture of the fire. + +1896 + + + + + +THE HERO IN MAN + + +I. + +There sometimes comes on us a mood of strange reverence for people and +things which in less contemplative hours we hold to be unworthy; and in +such moments we may set side by side the head of the Christ and the head +of an outcast, and there is an equal radiance around each, which makes +of the darker face a shadow and is itself a shadow around the head of +light. We feel a fundamental unity of purpose in their presence here, +and would as willingly pay homage to the one who has fallen as to him +who has become a master of life. I know that immemorial order decrees +that the laurel crown be given only to the victor, but in these moments +I speak of a profound intuition changes the decree and sets the aureole +on both alike. + +We feel such deep pity for the fallen that there must needs be a justice +in it, for these diviner feelings are wiser in themselves and do not +vaguely arise. They are lights from the Father. A justice lies in +uttermost pity and forgiveness, even when we seem to ourselves to be +most deeply wronged, or why is it that the awakening of resentment or +hate brings such swift contrition? We are ever self-condemned, and the +dark thought which went forth in us brooding revenge, when suddenly +smitten by the light, withdraws and hides within itself in awful +penitence. In asking myself why is it that the meanest are safe from our +condemnation when we sit on the true seat of judgment in the heart, +it seemed to me that their shield was the sense we have of a nobility +hidden in them under the cover of ignoble things; that their present +darkness was the result of some too weighty heroic labor undertaken long +ago by the human spirit, that it was the consecration of past purpose +which played with such a tender light about their ruined lives, and it +was more pathetic because this nobleness was all unknown to the +fallen, and the heroic cause of so much pain was forgotten in life's +prison-house. + +While feeling the service to us of the great ethical ideal which have +been formulated by men I think that the idea of justice intellectually +conceived tends to beget a certain hardness of heart. It is true that +men have done wrong--hence their pain; but back of all this there is +something infinitely soothing, a light that does not wound, which says +no harsh thing, even although the darkest of the spirits turns to it in +its agony, for the darkest of human spirits has still around him this +first glory which shines from a deeper being within, whose history may +be told as the legend of the Hero in Man. + +Among the many immortals with whom ancient myth peopled the spiritual +spheres of humanity are some figures which draw to themselves a more +profound tenderness than the rest. Not Aphrodite rising in beauty from +the faery foam of the first seas, not Apollo with sweetest singing, +laughter, and youth, not the wielder of the lightning could exact the +reverence accorded to the lonely Titan chained on the mountain, or to +that bowed figure heavy with the burden of the sins of the world; +for the brighter divinities had no part in the labor of man, no such +intimate relation with the wherefore of his own existence so full of +struggle. The more radiant figures are prophecies to him of his destiny, +but the Titan and the Christ are a revelation of his more immediate +state; their giant sorrows companion his own, and in contemplating them +he awakens what is noblest in his own nature; or, in other words, in +understanding their divine heroism he understands himself. For this in +truth it seems to me to mean: all knowledge is a revelation of the self +to the self, and our deepest comprehension of the seemingly apart divine +is also our farthest inroad to self-knowledge; Prometheus, Christ, are +in every heart; the story of one is the story of all; the Titan and the +Crucified are humanity. + +If, then, we consider them as representing the human spirit and +disentangle from the myths their meaning, we shall find that whatever +reverence is due to that heroic love, which descended from heaven for +the redeeming of a lower nature, must be paid to every human being. +Christ is incarnate in all humanity. Prometheus is bound for ever within +us. They are the same. They are a host, and the divine incarnation +was not spoken of one, but of all those who, descending into the lower +world, tried to change it into the divine image, and to wrest out of +chaos a kingdom for the empire of light. The angels saw below them in +chaos a senseless rout blind with elemental passion, for ever warring +with discordant cries which broke in upon the world of divine beauty; +and that the pain might depart, they grew rebellious in the Master's +peace, and descending to earth the angelic lights were crucified in men. +They left so radiant worlds, such a light of beauty, for earth's gray +twilight filled with tears, that through this elemental life might +breathe the starry music brought from Him. If the "Fore-seer" be a true +name for the Titan, it follows that in the host which he represents +was a light which well foreknew all the dark paths of its journey; +foreseeing the bitter struggle with a hostile nature, but foreseeing +perhaps a gain, a distant glory o'er the hills of sorrow, and that +chaos, divine and transformed, with only gentle breathing, lit up by +the Christ-soul of the universe. There is a transforming power in the +thought itself: we can no longer condemn the fallen, they who laid aside +their thrones of ancient power, their spirit ecstasy and beauty on +such a mission. Perhaps those who sank lowest did so to raise a +greater burden, and of these most fallen it may in the hour of their +resurrection be said, "The last shall be first." + +So, placing side by side the head of the outcast with the head of +Christ, it has this equal beauty--with as bright a glory it sped from +the Father in ages past on its redeeming labor. Of his present darkness +what shall we say? "He is altogether dead in sin?" Nay, rather with +tenderness forbear, and think the foreseeing spirit has taken its own +dread path to mastery; that that which foresaw the sorrow foresaw also +beyond it a greater joy and a mightier existence, when it would rise +again in a new robe, woven out of the treasure hidden in the deep of its +submergence, and shine at last like the stars of the morning, and live +among the Sons of God. + + + +II. + +Our deepest life is when we are alone. We think most truly, love best, +when isolated from the outer world in that mystic abyss we call soul. +Nothing external can equal the fullness of these moments. We may sit in +the blue twilight with a friend, or bend together by the hearth, half +whispering or in a silence populous with loving thoughts mutually +understood; then we may feel happy and at peace, but it is only because +we are lulled by a semblance to deeper intimacies. When we think of a +friend and the loved one draws nigh, we sometimes feel half-pained, for +we touched something in our solitude which the living presence shut out; +we seem more apart, and would fain wave them away and cry, "Call me not +forth from this; I am no more a spirit if I leave my throne." But these +moods, though lit up by intuitions of the true, are too partial, they +belong too much to the twilight of the heart, they have too dreamy a +temper to serve us well in life. We would wish rather for our thoughts +a directness such as belongs to the messengers of the gods, swift, +beautiful, flashing presences bent on purposes well understood. + +What we need is that this interior tenderness shall be elevated into +seership, that what in most is only yearning or blind love shall see +clearly its way and hope. To this end we have to observe more intently +the nature of the interior life. We find, indeed, that it is not a +solitude at all, but dense with multitudinous being: instead of being +alone we are in the thronged highways of existence. For our guidance +when entering here many words of warning have been uttered, laws have +been outlined, and beings full of wonder, terror, and beauty described. +Yet there is a spirit in us deeper than our intellectual being which I +think of as the Hero in man, who feels the nobility of its place in the +midst of all this, and who would fain equal the greatness of perception +with deeds as great. The weariness and sense of futility which often +falls upon the mystic after much thought is due to this, that he has +not recognized that he must be worker as well as seer, that here he has +duties demanding a more sustained endurance, just as the inner life is +so much vaster and more intense than the life he has left behind. + +Now the duties which can be taken up by the soul are exactly those which +it feels most inadequate to perform when acting as an embodied being. +What shall be done to quiet the heart-cry of the world: how answer the +dumb appeal for help we so often divine below eyes that laugh? It is the +saddest of all sorrows to think that pity with no hands to heal, that +love without a voice to speak should helplessly heap their pain upon +pain while earth shall endure. But there is a truth about sorrow which I +think may make it seem not so hopeless. There are fewer barriers than we +think: there is, in truth, an inner alliance between the soul who would +fain give and the soul who is in need. Nature has well provided that not +one golden ray of all our thoughts is sped ineffective through the +dark; not one drop of the magical elixirs love distils is wasted. Let us +consider how this may be. There is a habit we nearly all have indulged +in. We weave little stories in our minds, expending love and pity upon +the imaginary beings we have created, and I have been led to think that +many of these are not imaginary, that somewhere in the world beings are +living just in that way, and we merely reform and live over again in +our life the story of another life. Sometimes these far-away intimates +assume so vivid a shape, they come so near with their appeal for +sympathy that the pictures are unforgettable; and the more I ponder over +them the more it seems to me that they often convey the actual need of +some soul whose cry for comfort has gone out into the vast, perhaps +to meet with an answer, perhaps to hear only silence. I will supply an +instance. I see a child, a curious, delicate little thing, seated on the +doorstep of a house. It is an alley in some great city, and there is a +gloom of evening and vapor over the sky. I see the child is bending over +the path; he is picking cinders and arranging them, and as I ponder +I become aware that he is laying down in gritty lines the walls of a +house, the mansion of his dream. Here spread along the pavement are +large rooms, these for his friends, and a tiny room in the centre, that +is his own. So his thought plays. Just then I catch a glimpse of the +corduroy trousers of a passing workman, and a heavy boot crushes through +the cinders. I feel the pain in the child's heart as he shrinks back, +his little lovelit house of dreams all rudely shattered. Ah, poor child, +building the City Beautiful out of a few cinders, yet nigher, truer in +intent than many a stately, gold-rich palace reared by princes, thou +wert not forgotten by that mighty spirit who lives through the falling +of empires, whose home has been in many a ruined heart. Surely it was +to bring comfort to hearts like thine that that most noble of all +meditations was ordained by the Buddha. "He lets his mind pervade one +quarter of the world with thoughts of Love, and so the second, and so +the third, and so the fourth. And thus the whole wide world, above, +below, around, and everywhere does he continue to pervade with heart of +Love far-reaching, grown great and beyond measure." + +That love, though the very faery breath of life, should by itself, and +so imparted have a sustaining power some may question, not those who +have felt the sunlight fall from distant friends who think of them; but, +to make clearer how it seems to me to act, I say that love, Eros, is a +being. It is more than a power of the soul, though it is that also; it +has a universal life of its own, and just as the dark heaving waters do +not know what jewel lights they reflect with blinding radiance, so the +soul, partially absorbing and feeling the ray of Eros within it, does +not know that often a part of its nature nearer to the sun of love +shines with a brilliant light to other eyes than its own. Many people +move unconscious of their own charm, unknowing of the beauty and power +they seem to others to impart. It is some past attainment of the soul, +a jewel won in some old battle which it may have forgotten, but none +the less this gleams on its tiara, and the star-flame inspires others to +hope and victory. + +If it is true here that many exert a spiritual influence they are +unconscious of, it is still truer of the spheres within. Once the soul +has attained to any possession like love, or persistent will, or faith, +or a power of thought, it comes into spiritual contact with others who +are struggling for these very powers. The attainment of any of these +means that the soul is able to absorb and radiate some of the diviner +elements of being. The soul may or may nor be aware of the position it +is placed in or its new duties, but yet that Living Light, having found +a way into the being of any one person, does not rest there, but sends +its rays and extends its influence on and on to illume the darkness of +another nature. So it comes that there are ties which bind us to people +other than those whom we meet in our everyday life. I think they are +most real ties, most important to understand, for if we let our lamp +go out some far away who had reached out in the dark and felt a steady +will, a persistent hope, a compassionate love, may reach out once again +in an hour of need, and finding no support may give way and fold the +hands in despair. Often we allow gloom to overcome us and so hinder the +bright rays in their passage; but would we do it so often if we thought +that perhaps a sadness which besets us, we do not know why, was caused +by some one drawing nigh to us for comfort, whom our lethargy might +make feel still more his helplessnes, while our courage, our faith might +cause "our light to shine in some other heart which as yet has no light +of its own"? + + + +III. + + +The night was wet, and as I was moving down the streets my mind was also +journeying on a way of its own, and the things which were bodily present +before me were no less with me in my unseen traveling. Every now and +then a transfer would take place, and some of the moving shadows in +the street would begin walking about in the clear interior light. The +children of the city, crouched in the doorways or racing through the +hurrying multitude and flashing lights, began their elfin play again in +my heart; and that was because I had heard these tiny outcasts shouting +with glee. I wondered if the glitter and shadow of such sordid things +were thronged with magnificence and mystery for those who were unaware +of a greater light and deeper shade which made up the romance and +fascination of my own life. In imagination I narrowed myself to their +ignorance, littleness, and youth, and seemed for a moment to flit amid +great uncomprehended beings and a dim wonderful city of palaces. + +Then another transfer took place, and I was pondering anew, for a face +I had seen flickering through the warm wet mist haunted me; it entered +into the realm of the interpreter, and I was made aware by the pale +cheeks and by the close-shut lips of pain, and by some inward knowledge, +that there the Tree of Life was beginning to grow, and I wondered why it +is that it always springs up through a heart in ashes; I wondered +also if that which springs up, which in itself is an immortal joy, has +knowledge that its shoots are piercing through such anguish; or, again, +if it was the piercing of the shoots which caused the pain, and if +every throb of the beautiful flame darting upward to blossom meant +the perishing of some more earthly growth which had kept the heart in +shadow. + +Seeing, too, how many thoughts spring up from such a simple thing, I +questioned whether that which started the impulse had any share in the +outcome, and if these musings of mine in any way affected their subject. +I then began thinking about those secret ties on which I have speculated +before, and in the darkness my heart grew suddenly warm and glowing, +for I had chanced upon one of these shining imaginations which are the +wealth of those who travel upon the hidden ways. In describing that +which comes to us all at once, there is a difficulty in choosing between +what is first and what is last to say; but, interpreting as best I +can, I seemed to behold the onward movement of a Light, one among many +lights, all living, throbbing, now dim with perturbations and now again +clear, and all subtly woven together, outwardly in some more shadowy +shining, and inwardly in a greater fire, which, though it was invisible, +I knew to be the Lamp of the World. This Light which I beheld I felt +to be a human soul, and these perturbations which dimmed it were its +struggles and passionate longings for something, and that was for a more +brilliant shining of the light within itself. It was in love with its +own beauty, enraptured by its own lucidity; and I saw that as these +things were more beloved they grew paler, for this light is the light +which the Mighty Mother has in her heart for her children, and she means +that it shall go through each one unto all, and whoever restrains it in +himself is himself shut out; not that the great heart has ceased in its +love for that soul, but that the soul has shut itself off from influx, +for every imagination of man is the opening or the closing of a door +to the divine world; now he is solitary, cut off, and, seemingly to +himself, on the desert and distant verge of things; and then his thought +throws open the shut portals, he hears the chant of the seraphs in his +heart, and he is made luminous by the lighting of a sudden aureole. This +soul which I watched seemed to have learned at last the secret love; +for, in the anguish begotten by its loss, it followed the departing +glory in penitence to the inmost shrine, where it ceased altogether; +and because it seemed utterly lost and hopeless of attainment and +capriciously denied to the seeker, a profound pity arose in the soul for +those who, like it, were seeking, but still in hope, for they had not +come to the vain end of their endeavors. I understood that such pity +is the last of the precious essences which make up the elixir of +immortality, and when it is poured into the cup it is ready for +drinking. And so it was with this soul which grew brilliant with the +passage of the eternal light through its new purity of self-oblivion, +and joyful in the comprehension of the mystery of the secret love, +which, though it has been declared many times by the greatest of +teachers among men, is yet never known truly unless the Mighty Mother +has herself breathed it in the heart. + +And now that the soul has divined this secret, the shadowy shining +which was woven in bonds of union between it and its fellow lights +grew clearer; and a multitude of these strands were, so it seemed, +strengthened and placed in its keeping: along these it was to send the +message of the wisdom and the love which were the secret sweetness of +its own being. Then a spiritual tragedy began, infinitely more pathetic +than the old desolation, because it was brought about by the very +nobility of the spirit. This soul, shedding its love like rays of glory, +seemed itself the centre of a ring of wounding spears: it sent forth +love, and the arrowy response came hate-impelled: it whispered peace, +and was answered by the clash of rebellion: and to all this for defense +it could only bare more openly its heart that a profounder love from the +Mother Nature might pass through upon the rest. I knew this was what a +teacher, who wrote long ago, meant when he said: "Put on the whole armor +of God," which is love and endurance, for the truly divine children +of the Flame are not armed otherwise: and of those protests set up in +ignorance or rebellion against the whisper of the wisdom, I saw that +some melted in the fierce and tender heat of the heart, and there came +in their stead a golden response, which made closer the ties, and drew +these souls upward to an understanding and to share in the overshadowing +nature. And this is part of the plan of the Great Alchemist, whereby the +red ruby of the heart is transmuted into the tender light of the opal; +for the beholding of love made bare acts like the flame of the furnace: +and the dissolving passions, through an anguish of remorse, the +lightnings of pain, and through an adoring pity are changed into the +image they contemplate, and melt in the ecstasy of self-forgetful love, +the spirit which lit the thorn-crowned brows which perceived only in +its last agony the retribution due to its tormentors, and cried out, +"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." + +Now, although the love of the few may alleviate the hurt due to the +ignorance of the mass, it is not in the power of any one to withstand +for ever this warfare; for by the perpetual wounding of the inner nature +it is so wearied that the spirit must withdraw from a tabernacle grown +too frail to support the increase of light within and the jarring of the +demoniac nature without; and at length comes the call which means, for a +while, release and a deep rest in regions beyond the paradise of lesser +souls. So, withdrawn into the divine darkness, vanished the light of my +dream. And now it seemed as if this wonderful weft of souls intertwining +as one being must come to naught; and all those who through the gloom +had nourished a longing for the light would stretch out hands in vain +for guidance; but that I did not understand the love of the Mother, and +that, although few, there is no decaying of her heroic brood; for, as +the seer of old caught at the mantle of him who went up in the fiery +chariot, so another took up the burden and gathered the shining strands +together: and of this sequence of spiritual guides there is no ending. + +Here I may say that the love of the Mother, which, acting through +the burnished will of the hero, is wrought to its highest uses, is +in reality everywhere, and pervades with profoundest tenderness the +homeliest circumstance of daily life, and there is not lacking, even +among the humblest, an understanding of the spiritual tragedy which +follows upon every effort of the divine nature, bowing itself down in +pity to our shadowy sphere, an understanding where the nature of the +love is gauged through the extent of the sacrifice and the pain which is +overcome. I recall the instance of an old Irish peasant, who, as he lay +in hospital wakeful from a grinding pain in the leg, forgot himself in +making drawings, rude, yet reverently done, of incidents in the life of +the Galilean Teacher. One of these which he showed me was a crucifixion, +where, amidst much grotesque symbolism, were some tracings which +indicated a purely beautiful intuition; the heart of this crucified +figure, no less than the brow, was wreathed about with thorns and +radiant with light: "For that," said he, "was where he really suffered." +When I think of this old man, bringing forgetfulness of his own bodily +pain through contemplation of the spiritual suffering of his Master, my +memory of him shines with something of the transcendent light he himself +perceived, for I feel that some suffering of his own, nobly undergone, +had given him understanding, and he had laid his heart in love against +the Heart of Many Sorrows, seeing it wounded by unnumbered spears, yet +burning with undying love. + +Though much may be learned by observance of the superficial life +and actions of a spiritual teacher, it is only in the deeper life of +meditation and imagination that it can be truly realized; for the soul +is a midnight blossom which opens its leaves in dream, and its perfect +bloom is unfolded only where another sun shines in another heaven; there +it feels what celestial dews descend on it and what influences draw it +up to its divine archetype. Here in the shadow of earth root intercoils +with root, and the finer distinctions of the blossom are not perceived. +If we knew also who they really are, who sometimes in silence and +sometimes with the eyes of the world at gaze take upon them the mantle +of teacher, an unutterable awe would prevail, for underneath a bodily +presence not in any sense beautiful may burn the glory of some ancient +divinity, some hero who has laid aside his sceptre in the enchanted +land, to rescue old-time comrades fallen into oblivion; or, again, if +we had the insight of the simple old peasant into the nature of his +enduring love, out of the exquisite and poignant emotions kindled would +arise the flame of a passionate love, which would endure long aeons of +anguish that it might shield, though but for a little, the kingly hearts +who may not shield themselves. + +But I, too, who write, have launched the rebellious spear, or in +lethargy have oft times gone down the great drift numbering myself among +those who, not being with must needs be against. Therefore I make no +appeal: they only may call who stand upon the lofty mountains; but I +reveal the thought which arose like a star in my soul with such bright +and pathetic meaning, leaving it to you who read to approve and apply +it. + +1897 + + + + + +THE MEDITATION OF ANANDA + + +Ananda rose from his seat under the banyan tree. He passed his hand +unsteadily over his brow. Throughout the day the young ascetic had been +plunged in profound meditation; and now, returning from heaven to earth, +he was bewildered like one who awakens in darkness and knows not where +he is. All day long before his inner eye burned the light of the Lokas, +until he was wearied and exhausted with their splendors; space glowed +like a diamond with intolerable lustre, and there was no end to the +dazzling procession of figures. He had seen the fiery dreams of the +dead in heaven. He had been tormented by the music of celestial singers, +whose choral song reflected in its ripples the rhythmic pulse of being. +He saw how these orbs were held within luminous orbs of wider circuit; +and vaste and vaster grew the vistas, until at last, a mere speck of +life, he bore the burden of innumerable worlds. Seeking for Brahma, he +found only the great illusion as infinite as Brahma's being. + +If these things were shadows, the earth and the forests he returned to, +viewed at evening, seemed still more unreal, the mere dusky flutter of +a moth's wings in space, so filmy and evanescent that if he had sunk +as through transparent aether into the void, it would not have been +wonderful. + +Ananda, still half entranced, turned homeward. As he threaded the dim +alleys he noticed not the flaming eyes which regarded him from the +gloom; the serpents rustling amid the undergrowth; the lizards, +fireflies, insects, and the innumerable lives of which the Indian forest +was rumorous; they also were but shadows. He paused near the village +hearing the sound of human voices, of children at play. He felt a pity +for these tiny beings, who struggled and shouted, rolling over each +other in ecstasies of joy. The great illusion had indeed devoured them, +before whose spirits the Devas themselves once were worshippers. Then, +close beside him, he heard a voice, whose low tone of reverence soothed +him; it was akin to his own nature, and it awakened him fully. A little +crowd of five or six people were listening silently to an old man who +read from a palm-leaf manuscript. Ananda knew, by the orange-colored +robes of the old man that here was a brother of the new faith, and he +paused with the others. What was his illusion? The old man lifted his +head for a moment as the ascetic came closer, and then continued as +before. He was reading "The Legend of the Great King of Glory," and +Ananda listened while the story was told of the Wonderful Wheel, the +Elephant Treasure, the Lake and Palace of Righteousness, and of the +meditation, how the Great King of Glory entered the golden chamber, and +set himself down on the silver couch, and he let his mind pervade one +quarter of the world with thoughts of love; and so the second quarter, +and so the third, and so the fourth. And thus the whole wide world, +above, below, around, and everywhere, did he continue to pervade with +heart of Love, far reaching, grown great, and beyond measure. + +When the old man had ended Ananda went back into the forest. He had +found the secret of the true, how the Vision could be left behind and +the Being entered. Another legend rose in his mind, a faery legend of +righteousness expanding and filling the universe, a vision beautiful +and full of old enchantment, and his heart sang within him. He seated +himself again under the banyan tree. He rose up in soul. He saw before +him images long forgotten of those who suffer in the sorrowful earth. +He saw the desolation and loneliness of old age, the insults of the +captive, the misery of the leper and outcast, the chill horror and +darkness of life in a dungeon. He drank in all their sorrow. From his +heart he went out to them. Love, a fierce and tender flame, arose; pity, +a breath from the vast; sympathy, born of unity. This triple fire sent +forth its rays; they surrounded those dark souls; they pervaded them; +they beat down oppression. + +***** + +While Ananda, with spiritual magic, sent forth the healing powers +through the four quarters of the world, far away at that moment a king +sat enthroned in his hall. A captive was bound before him--bound, but +proud, defiant, unconquerable of soul. There was silence in the hall +until the king spake the doom and torture for this ancient enemy. + +The king spake: "I had thought to do some fierce thing to thee and +so end thy days, my enemy. But I remember now, with sorrow, the great +wrongs we have done to each other, and the hearts made sore by our +hatred. I shall do no more wrong to thee; thou art free to depart. Do +what thou wilt. I will make restitution to thee as far as may be for thy +ruined state." + +Then the soul which no might could conquer was conquered utterly--the +knees of the captive were bowed and his pride was overcome. "My +brother," he said, and could say no more. + +***** + +To watch for years a little narrow slit high up in a dark cell, so high +that he could not reach up and look out, and there to see daily the +change from blue to dark in the sky, had withered a prisoner's soul. +The bitter tears came no more, hardly even sorrow, only a dull, dead +feeling. But that day a great groan burst from him. He heard outside the +laugh of a child who was playing and gathering flowers under the high, +gray walls. Then it all came over him--the divine things missed, the +light, the glory, and the beauty that the earth puts forth for her +children. The arrow slit was darkened, and half of a little bronze face +appeared. + +"Who are you down there in the darkness who sigh so? Are you all alone +there? For so many years! Ah, poor man! I would come down to you if I +could, but I will sit here and talk to you for a while. Here are flowers +for you," and a little arm showered them in by handfuls until the room +was full of the intoxicating fragrance of summer. Day after day the +child came, and the dull heart entered once more into the great human +love. + +***** + +At twilight, by a deep and wide river, an old woman sat alone, dreamy +and full of memories. The lights of the swift passing boats and the +light of the stars were just as in childhood and the old love-time. Old, +feeble, it was time for her to hurry away from the place which changed +not with her sorrow. + +"Do you see our old neighbor there?" said Ayesha to her lover. "They +say she was once as beautiful as you would make me think I now am. How +lonely she must be! Let us come near and speak to her," and the lover +went gladly. Though they spoke to each other rather than to her, yet +something of the past, which never dies when love, the immortal, has +pervaded it, rose up again as she heard their voices. She smiled, +thinking of years of burning beauty. + +***** + +A teacher, accompanied by his disciples, was passing by the wayside +where a leper sat. + +The teacher said: "Here is our brother, whom we may not touch, but he +need not be shut out from truth. We may sit down where he can listen." + +He sat on the wayside near the leper, and his disciples stood around +him. He spoke words full of love, kindliness, and pity--the eternal +truths which make the soul grow full of sweetness and youth. A small, +old spot began to glow in the heart of the leper, and the tears ran down +his blighted face. + +***** + +All these were the deeds of Ananda the ascetic, and the Watcher who was +over him from all eternity made a great stride towards that soul. + +1893 + + + + + +THE MIDNIGHT BLOSSOM + + + "Arhans are born at midnight hour, together with the holy + flower that opes and blossoms in darkness." + --From an Eastern Scripture. + +We stood together at the door of our hut. We could see through the +gathering gloom where our sheep and goats were cropping the sweet grass +on the side of the hill. We were full of drowsy content as they were. +We had naught to mar our happiness, neither memory nor unrest for the +future. We lingered on while the vast twilight encircled us; we were one +with its dewy stillness. The lustre of the early stars first broke in +upon our dreaming: we looked up and around. The yellow constellations +began to sing their choral hymn together. As the night deepened they +came out swiftly from their hiding-places in depths of still and +unfathomable blue--they hung in burning clusters, they advanced in +multitudes that dazzled. The shadowy shining of night was strewn all +over with nebulous dust of silver, with long mists of gold, with jewels +of glittering green. We felt how fit a place the earth was to live on +with these nightly glories over us, with silence and coolness upon our +lawns and lakes after the consuming day. Valmika, Kedar, Ananda, and +I watched together. Through the rich gloom we could see far distant +forests and lights, the lights of village and city in King Suddhodana's +realm. + +"Brothers," said Valmika, "how good it is to be here and not yonder in +the city, where they know not peace, even in sleep." + +"Yonder and yonder," said Kedar, "I saw the inner air full of a red glow +where they were busy in toiling and strife. It seemed to reach up to me. +I could not breathe. I climbed the hill at dawn to laugh where the snows +were, and the sun is as white as they are white." + +"But, brothers, if we went down among them and told them how happy we +were, and how the flower's grow on the hillside, they would surely come +up and leave all sorrow. They cannot know or they would come." Ananda +was a mere child, though so tall for his years. + +"They would not come," said Kedar; "all their joy is to haggle and +hoard. When Siva blows upon them with angry breath they will lament, or +when the demons in fierce hunger devour them." + +"It is good to be here," repeated Valmika, drowsily, "to mind the flocks +and be at rest, and to hear the wise Varunna speak when he comes among +us." + +I was silent. I knew better than they that busy city which glowed beyond +the dark forests. I had lived there until, grown sick and weary, I +had gone back to my brothers on the hillside. I wondered, would life, +indeed, go on ceaselessly until it ended in the pain of the world. I +said within myself: "O mighty Brahma, on the outermost verges of thy +dream are our lives. Thou old invisible, how faintly through our hearts +comes the sound of thy song, the light of thy glory!" Full of yearning +to rise and return, I strove to hear in my heart the music Anahata, +spoken of in our sacred scrolls. There was silence and then I thought +I heard sounds, not glad, a myriad murmur. As I listened they +deepened--they grew into passionate prayer and appeal and tears, as if +the cry of the long-forgotten souls of men went echoing through empty +chambers. My eyes filled with tears, for it seemed world-wide and to +sigh from out many ages, long agone, to be and yet to be. + +"Ananda! Ananda! Where is the boy running to?" cried Valmika. Ananda had +vanished in the gloom. We heard his glad laugh below, and then another +voice speaking. The tall figure of Varunna loomed up presently. Ananda +held his hand, and danced beside him. We knew the Yogi, and bowed +reverently before him. We could see by the starlight his simple robe of +white. I could trace clearly every feature of the grave and beautiful +face and radiant eyes. I saw not by the starlight, but by a silvery +radiance which rayed a little way into the blackness around the dark +hair and face. Valmika, as elder, first spoke: + +"Holy sir, be welcome. Will you come in and rest?" + +"I cannot stay now. I must pass over the mountains ere dawn; but you may +come a little way with me--such of you as will." + +We assented gladly, Kedar and I, Valmika remained. Then Ananda prayed +to go. We bade him stay, fearing for him the labor of climbing and the +chill of the snows. But Varunna said: "Let the child come. He is hardy, +and will not tire if he holds my hand." + +So we set out together, and faced the highlands that rose and rose +above us. We knew the way well, even at night. We waited in silence for +Varunna to speak; but for nigh an hour we mounted without words, save +for Ananda's shouts of delight and wonder at the heavens spread above +valleys that lay behind us. Then I grew hungry for an answer to my +thoughts, and I spake: + +"Master, Valmika was saying, ere you came, how good it was to be here +rather than in the city, where they are full of strife. And Kedar +thought their lives would flow on into fiery pain, and no speech would +avail. Ananda, speaking as a child, indeed, said if one went down among +they would listen to his story of the happy life. But, Master, do not +many speak and interpret the sacred writings, and how few are they who +lay to heart the words of the gods! They seem, indeed, to go on through +desire into pain, and even here upon the hills we are not free, for +Kedar felt the hot glow of their passion, and I heard in my heart their +sobs of despair. Master, it was terrible, for they seemed to come from +the wide earth over, and out of ages far away. + + "In the child's words is the truth," said Varunna, "for it is +better to aid even in sorrow than to withdraw from pain to a happy +solitude. Yet only the knowers of Brahma can interpret the sacred +writings truly, and it is well to be free ere we speak of freedom. Then +we have power and many hearken." + +"But who would leave joy for sorrow? And who, being one with Brahma, +would return to give counsel?" + +"Brother," said Varunna, "here is the hope of the world. Though many +seek only for the eternal joy, yet the cry you heard has been heard by +great ones who have turned backwards, called by these beseeching voices. +The small old path stretching far away leads through many wonderful +beings to the place of Brahma. There is the first fountain, the world of +beautiful silence, the light which has been undimmed since the beginning +of time. But turning backwards from the gate the small old path winds +away into the world of men, and it enters every sorrowful heart. This +is the way the great ones go. They turn with the path from the door +of Brahma. They move along its myriad ways, and overcome pain with +compassion. After many conquered worlds, after many races of purified +and uplifted men, they go to a greater than Brahma. In these, though +few, is the hope of the world. These are the heroes for whose returning +the earth puts forth her signal fires, and the Devas sing their hymns of +welcome." + +We paused where the plateau widened out. There was scarce a ripple in +the chill air. In quietness the snows glistened, a light reflected from +the crores of stars that swung with glittering motion above us. We +could hear the immense heart-beat of the world in the stillness. We had +thoughts that went ranging through the heavens, not sad, but full of +solemn hope. + +"Brothers! Master! look! The wonderful thing! And another, and yet +another!" we heard Ananda calling. We looked and saw the holy blossom, +the midnight flower. Oh, may the earth again put forth such beauty. +It grew up from the snows with leaves of delicate crystal. A nimbus +encircled each radiant bloom, a halo pale yet lustrous. I bowed over it +in awe; and I heard Varunna say, "The earth indeed puts forth her signal +fires, and the Devas sing their hymn. Listen!" We heard a music as of +beautiful thoughts moving along the high places of the earth, full of +infinite love and hope and yearning. + +"Be glad now, for one is born who has chosen the greater way. Kedar, +Narayan, Ananda, farewell! Nay, no farther. It is a long way to return, +and the child will tire." + +He went on and passed from our sight. But we did not return. We remained +long, long in silence, looking at the sacred flower.------------- + +Vow, taken long ago, be strong in our hearts today. Here, where the pain +is fiercer, to rest is more sweet. Here, where beauty dies away, it is +more joy to be lulled in dream. Here, the good, the true, our hope seem +but a madness born of ancient pain. Out of rest, dream, or despair may +we arise, and go the way the great ones go. + +1894 + + + + + +THE CHILDHOOD OF APOLLO + + +It was long ago, so long that only the spirit of earth remembers truly. +The old shepherd Admetus sat before the door of his hut waiting for his +grandson to return. He watched with drowsy eyes the eve gather, and +the woods and mountains grow dark over the isles--the isles of ancient +Greece. It was Greece before its day of beauty, and day was never +lovelier. The cloudy blossoms of smoke, curling upward from the valley, +sparkled a while high up in the sunlit air, a vague memorial of the +world of men below. From that, too, the color vanished, and those other +lights began to shine which to some are the only lights of day. The +skies dropped close upon the mountains and the silver seas like a vast +face brooding with intentness. There was enchantment, mystery, and +a living motion in its depths, the presence of all-pervading Zeus +enfolding his starry children with the dark radiance of aether. + +"Ah!" murmured the old man, looking upward, "once it was living; once it +spoke to me. It speaks not now; but it speaks to others I know--to the +child who looks and longs and trembles in the dewy night. Why does he +linger now? He is beyond his hour. Ah, there now are his footsteps!" + +A boy came up the valley driving the gray flocks which tumbled before +him in the darkness. He lifted his young face for the shepherd to kiss. +It was alight with ecstasy. Admetus looked at him with wonder. A golden +and silvery light rayed all about the child, so that his delicate +ethereal beauty seemed set in a star which followed his dancing +footsteps. + +"How bright your eyes!" the old man said, faltering with sudden awe. +"Why do your limbs shine with moonfire light?" + +"Oh, father," said the boy Apollo, "I am glad, for everything is living +tonight. The evening is all a voice and many voices. While the flocks +were browsing night gathered about me. I saw within it and it was +everywhere living. + +"The wind with dim-blown tresses, odor, incense, and secret falling dew, +mingled in one warm breath. They whispered to me and called me 'Child of +the Stars,' 'Dew Heart,' and 'Soul of Light.' Oh, father, as I came up +the valley the voices followed me with song. Everything murmured love. +Even the daffodils, nodding in the olive gloom, grew golden at my feet, +and a flower within my heart knew of the still sweet secret of the +flowers. Listen, listen!" + +There were voices in the night, voices as of star-rays descending. + + Now the roof-tree of the midnight spreading + Buds in citron, green, and blue: + From afar its mystic odors shedding, + Child, on you. + +Then other sweet speakers from beneath the earth, and from the distant +waters and air, followed in benediction, and a last voice like a murmur +from universal nature: + + Now the buried stars beneath the mountains + And the vales their life renew, + Jetting rainbow blooms from tiny fountains, + Child, for you. + + As within our quiet waters passing + Sun and moon and stars we view, + So the loveliness of life is glassing, + Child, in you. + + In the diamond air the sun-star glowing + Up its feathered radiance threw; + All the jewel glory there was flowing, + Child, for you. + + And the fire divine in all things burning + Yearns for home and rest anew, + From its wanderings far again returning, + Child, to you. + +"Oh, voices, voices," cried the child, "what you say I know not, but I +give back love for love. Father, what is it they tell me? They enfold me +in light, and I am far away even though I hold your hand." + +"The gods are about us. Heaven mingles with the earth," said Admetus, +trembling. "Let us go to Diotima. She has grown wise brooding for many +a year where the great caves lead to the underworld. She sees the bright +ones as they pass by, though she sits with shut eyes, her drowsy lips +murmuring as nature's self." + +That night the island seemed no more earth set in sea, but a music +encircled by the silence. The trees, long rooted in antique slumber, +were throbbing with rich life; through glimmering bark and drooping leaf +a light fell on the old man and boy as they passed, and vague figures +nodded at them. These were the hamadryad souls of the wood. They were +bathed in tender colors and shimmering lights draping them from root +to leaf. A murmur came from the heart of every one, a low enchantment +breathing joy and peace. It grew and swelled until at last it seemed as +if through a myriad pipes Pan the earth spirit was fluting his magical +creative song. + +They found the cave of Diotima covered by vines and tangled trailers +at the end of the island where the dark-green woodland rose up from the +waters. Admetus paused, for he dreaded this mystic prophetess; but a +voice from within called them: + +"Come, child of light: come in, old shepherd, I know why you seek me!" + +They entered, Admetus trembling with more fear than before. A fire was +blazing in a recess of the cavern, and by it sat a majestic figure +robed in purple. She was bent forward, her hand supporting her face, her +burning eyes turned on the intruders. + +"Come hither, child," she said, taking the boy by the hands and gazing +into his face. "So this pale form is to be the home of the god. The gods +Choose wisely. They take no wild warrior, no mighty hero to be their +messenger, but crown this gentle head. Tell me, have you ever seen a +light from the sun falling on you in your slumber? No, but look now. +Look upward." + +As she spoke she waved her hands over him, and the cavern with its dusky +roof seemed to melt away, and beyond the heavens the heaven of heavens +lay dark in pure tranquility, in a quiet which was the very hush of +being. In an instant it vanished, and over the zenith broke a wonderful +light. + +"See now," cried Diotima, "the Ancient Beauty! Look how its petals +expand, and what comes forth from its heart!" A vast and glowing breath, +mutable and opalescent, spread itself between heaven and earth, and +out of it slowly descended a radiant form like a god's. It drew nigh, +radiating lights, pure, beautiful, and star-like. It stood for a moment +by the child and placed its hand on his head, and then it was gone. The +old shepherd fell upon his face in awe, while the boy stood breathless +and entranced. + +"Go now," said the Sybil, "I can teach thee naught. Nature herself will +adore you, and sing through you her loveliest song. But, ah, the light +you hail in joy you shall impart in tears. So from age to age the +eternal Beauty bows itself down amid sorrows, that the children of +men may not forget it, that their anguish may be transformed, smitten +through by its fire." + + + + + +THE MASK OF APOLLO + + +A tradition rises within me of quiet, unarmored years, ages before the +demigods and heroes toiled at the making of Greece, long ages before the +building of the temples and sparkling palaces of her day of glory. The +land was pastoral, and over all the woods hung a stillness as of dawn +and of unawakened beauty deep breathing in rest. Here and there little +villages sent up their smoke and a dreamy people moved about. They grew +up, toiled a little at their fields, followed their sheep and goats, +wedded, and gray age overtook them, but they never ceased to be +children. They worshipped the gods in little wooden temples, with +ancient rites forgotten in later years. + +Near one of these shrines lived a priest--an old man--who was held in +reverence by all for his simple and kindly nature. To him, sitting one +summer evening before his hut, came a stranger whom he invited to share +his meal. The stranger seated himself and began to tell the priest many +wonderful things--stories of the magic of the sun and of the bright +beings who move at the gateways of the day. The old man grew drowsy in +the warm sunlight and fell asleep. Then the stranger, who was Apollo, +arose, and in the guise of the priest entered the little temple, and the +people came in unto him one after the other. + +First came Agathon, the husbandman, who said: "Father, as I bend over +the fields or fasten up the vines I sometimes remember that you said the +gods can be worshipped by doing these things as by sacrifice. How is +it, father, that the pouring of cold water over roots or training up the +vines can nourish Zeus? How can the sacrifice appear before his throne +when it is not carried up in the fire and vapor?" + +To him Apollo, in the guise of the old man, replied: "Agathon, the +father omnipotent does not live only in the aether. He runs invisibly +within the sun and stars, and as they whirl round and round they break +out into streams and woods and flowers, and the clouds are shaken away +from them as the leaves from off the roses. Great, strange, and bright, +he busies himself within, and at the end of time his light shall shine, +through, and men shall see it moving in a world of flame. Think then, as +you bend over your fields, of what you nourish and what rises up within +them. Know that every flower as it droops in the quiet of the woodland +feels within and far away the approach of an unutterable life and is +glad. They reflect that life as the little pools the light of the stars. +Agathon, Agathon, Zeus is no greater in the aether than he is in the +leaf of grass, and the hymns of men are no sweeter to him than a little +water poured over one of his flowers." + +Agathon, the husbandman, went away, and he bent tenderly in dreams over +his fruit and his vines, and he loved them more than before, and he grew +wise as he watched them and was happy working for the gods. + +Then spake Damon, the shepherd Father, "while the flocks are browsing +dreams rise up within me. They make the heart sick with longing. The +forests vanish, and I hear no more the lambs' bleat or the rustling of +the fleeces. Voices from a thousand depths call me; they whisper, they +beseech me. Shadows more lovely than earth's children utter music, not +for me though I faint while I listen. Father, why do I hear the things +others hear not--voices calling to unknown hunters of wide fields, or to +herdsmen, shepherds of the starry flocks?" + +Apollo answered the shepherd: "Damon, a song stole from the silence +while the gods were not yet, and a thousand ages passed ere they came, +called forth by the music; and a thousand ages they listened, and then +joined in the song. Then began the worlds to glimmer shadowy about them, +and bright beings to bow before them. These, their children, began in +their turn to sing the song that calls forth and awakens life. He is +master of all things who has learned their music. Damon, heed not the +shadows, but the voices. The voices have a message to thee from beyond +the gods. Learn their song and sing it over again to the people until +their hearts, too, grow sick with longing, and they can hear the song +within themselves. Oh, my son, I see far off how the nations shall join +in it as in a chorus, and, hearing it, the rushing planets shall cease +from their speed and be steadfast. Men shall hold starry sway." + +The face of the god shone through the face of the old man, and it was +so full of secretness that, filled with awe, Damon, the herdsman, passed +from the presence, and a strange fire was kindled in his heart. The +songs that he sang thereafter caused childhood and peace to pass from +the dwellers in the woods. + +Then the two lovers, Dion and Nemra, came in and stood before Apollo, +and Dion spake: "Father, you who are so wise can tell us what love is, +so that we shall never miss it. Old Tithonus nods his gray head at us as +we pass. He says only with the changeless gods has love endurance, and +for men the loving time is short, and its sweetness is soon over." + +Neaera added: "But it is not true, father, for his drowsy eyes light +when he remembers the old days, when he was happy and proud in love as +we are." + +Apollo answered: "My children, I will tell you the legend how love came +into the world, and how it may endure. On high Olympus the gods held +council at the making of man, and each had brought a gift, and each +gave to man something of their own nature. Aphrodite, the loveliest and +sweetest, paused, and was about to add a new grace to his person; but +Eros cried: 'Let them not be so lovely without; let them be lovelier +within. Put your own soul in, O mother.' The mighty mother smiled, and +so it was. And now, whenever love is like hers, which asks not return, +but shines on all because it must, within that love Aphrodite dwells, +and it becomes immortal by her presence." + +Then Dion and Neaera went out, and as they walked home through the +forest, purple and vaporous in the evening light, they drew closer +together. Dion, looking into the eyes of Neaera, saw there a new gleam, +violet, magical, shining--there was the presence of Aphrodite; there was +her shrine. + +After came in unto Apollo the two grand-children of old Tithonus, and +they cried: "See the flowers we have brought you! We gathered them for +you in the valley where they grow best!" Apollo said: "What wisdom +shall we give to children that they may remember? Our most beautiful for +them!" And as he stood and looked at them the mask of age and secretness +vanished. He appeared radiant in light. They laughed in joy at his +beauty. Bending down he kissed each upon the forehead, then faded away +into the light which is his home. + +As the sun sank down amid the blue hills, the old priest awoke with +a sigh, and cried out: "Oh, that we could talk wisely as we do in our +dreams!" + +1893 + + + + +THE CAVE OF LILITH + + +Out of her cave came the ancient Lilith; Lilith the wise; Lilith the +enchantress. There ran a little path outside her dwelling; it wound away +among the mountains and glittering peaks, and before the door one of the +Wise Ones walked to and fro. Out of her cave came Lilith, scornful of +his solitude, exultant in her wisdom, flaunting her shining and magical +beauty. + +"Still alone, star gazer! Is thy wisdom of no avail? Thou hast yet to +learn that I am more powerful, knowing the ways of error, than you who +know the ways of truth." + +The Wise One heeded her not, but walked to and fro. His eyes were turned +to the distant peaks, the abode of his brothers. The starlight fell +about him; a sweet air came down the mountain path, fluttering his white +robe; he did not cease from his steady musing. Lilith wavered in her +cave like a mist rising between rocks. Her raiment was violet, with +silvery gleams. Her face was dim, and over her head rayed a shadowy +diadem, like that which a man imagines over the head of his beloved: and +one looking closer at her face would have seen that this was the crown +he reached out to; that the eyes burnt with his own longing; that the +lips were parted to yield to the secret wishes of his heart. + +"Tell me, for I would know, why do you wait so long? I, here in my cave +between the valley and the height, blind the eyes of all who would pass. +Those who by chance go forth to you, come back to me again, and but one +in ten thousand passes on. My illusions are sweeter to them than truth. +I offer every soul its own shadow. I pay them their own price. I have +grown rich, though the simple shepards of old gave me birth. Men have +made me; the mortals have made me immortal. I rose up like a vapor from +their first dreams, and every sigh since then and every laugh remains +with me. I am made up of hopes and fears. The subtle princes lay out +their plans of conquest in my cave, and there the hero dreams, and there +the lovers of all time write in flame their history. I am wise, holding +all experience, to tempt, to blind, to terrify. None shall pass by. Why, +therefore, dost thou wait?" + +The Wise One looked at her, and she shrank back a little, and a little +her silver and violet faded, but out of her cave her voice still +sounded: + +"The stars and the starry crown are not yours alone to offer, and +every promise you make I make also. I offer the good and the bad +indifferently. The lover, the poet, the mystic, and all who would drink +of the first fountain, I delude with my mirage. I was the Beatrice who +led Dante upwards: the gloom was in me, and the glory was mine also, +and he went not out of my cave. The stars and the shining of heaven were +illusions of the infinite I wove about him. I captured his soul with the +shadow of space; a nutshell would have contained the film. I smote on +the dim heart-chords the manifold music of being. God is sweeter in the +human than the human in God. Therefore he rested in me." + +She paused a little, and then went on: "There is that fantastic fellow +who slipped by me. Could your wisdom not retain him? He returned to me +full of anguish, and I wound my arms round him like a fair melancholy; +and now his sadness is as sweet to him as hope was before his fall. +Listen to his song!" She paused again. A voice came up from the depths +chanting a sad knowledge: + + What of all the will to do? + It has vanished long ago, + For a dream-shaft pierced it through + From the Unknown Archer's bow. + + What of all the soul to think? + Some one offered it a cup + Filled with a diviner drink, + And the flame has burned it up. + + What of all the hope to climb? + Only in the self we grope + To the misty end of time, + Truth has put an end to hope. + + What of all the heart to love? + Sadder than for will or soul, + No light lured it on above: + Love has found itself the whole. + +"Is it not pitiful? I pity only those who pity themselves. Yet he is +mine more surely than ever. This is the end of human wisdom. How shall +he now escape? What shall draw him up?" + +"His will shall awaken," said the Wise One. "I do not sorrow over him, +for long is the darkness before the spirit is born. He learns in your +caves not to see, not to hear, not to think, for very anguish flying +your illusions." + +"Sorrow is a great bond," Lilith said. + +"It is a bond to the object of sorrow. He weeps what thou canst never +give him, a life never breathed in thee. He shall come forth, and thou +shalt not see him at the time of passing. When desire dies the swift and +invisible will awakens. He shall go forth; and one by one the dwellers +in your caves will awaken and pass onward. This small old path will be +trodden by generation after generation. Thou, too, O shining Lilith, +shalt follow, not as mistress, but as handmaiden." + +"I will weave spells," Lilith cried. "They shall never pass me. I will +drug them with the sweetest poison. They shall rest drowsily and content +as of old. Were they not giants long ago, mighty men and heroes? I +overcame them with young enchantment. Shall they pass by feeble and +longing for bygone joys, for the sins of their exultant youth, while I +have grown into a myriad wisdom?" + +The Wise One walked to and fro as before, and there was silence: and I +saw that with steady will he pierced the tumultuous gloom of the cave, +and a spirit awoke here and there from its dream. And I though I saw +that Sad Singer become filled with a new longing for true being, and +that the illusions of good and evil fell from him, and that he came at +last to the knees of the Wise One to learn the supreme truth. In +the misty midnight I hear these three voices--the Sad Singer, the +Enchantress Lilith, and the Wise One. From the Sad Singer I learned +that thought of itself leads nowhere, but blows the perfume from every +flower, and cuts the flower from every tree, and hews down every tree +from the valley, and in the end goes to and fro in waste places--gnawing +itself in a last hunger. I learned from Lilith that we weave our own +enchantment, and bind ourselves with out own imagination. To think of +the true as beyond us or to love the symbol of being is to darken the +path to wisdom, and to debar us from eternal beauty. From the Wise One +I learned that the truest wisdom is to wait, to work, and to will in +secret. Those who are voiceless today, tomorrow shall be eloquent, and +the earth shall hear them and her children salute them. Of these three +truths the hardest to learn is the silent will. Let us seek for the +highest truth. + +1894 + + + + +THE STORY OF A STAR + + +The emotions that haunted me in that little cathedral town would be most +difficult to describe. After the hurry, rattle, and fever of the city, +the rare weeks spent here were infinitely peaceful. They were full of +a quaint sense of childhood, with sometimes a deeper chord touched--the +giant and spiritual things childhood has dreams of. The little room I +slept in had opposite its window the great gray cathedral wall; it was +only in the evening that the sunlight crept round it and appeared in +the room strained through the faded green blind. It must have been this +silvery quietness of color which in some subtle way affected me with the +feeling of a continual Sabbath; and this was strengthened by the bells +chiming hour after hour. The pathos, penitence, and hope expressed by +the flying notes colored the intervals with faint and delicate memories. +They haunted my dreams, and I heard with unutterable longing the dreamy +chimes pealing from some dim and vast cathedral of the cosmic memory, +until the peace they tolled became almost a nightmare, and I longed for +utter oblivion or forgetfulness of their reverberations. + +More remarkable were the strange lapses into other worlds and times. +Almost as frequent as the changing of the bells were the changes from +state to state. I realized what is meant by the Indian philosophy of +Maya. Truly my days were full of Mayas, and my work-a-day city life was +no more real to me than one of those bright, brief glimpses of things +long past. I talk of the past, and yet these moments taught me how false +our ideas of time are. In the Ever-living yesterday, today, and tomorrow +are words of no meaning. I know I fell into what we call the past and +the things I counted as dead for ever were the things I had yet to +endure. Out of the old age of earth I stepped into its childhood, and +received once more the primal blessing of youth, ecstasy, and beauty. +But these things are too vast and vague to speak of, the words we use +today cannot tell their story. Nearer to our time is the legend that +follows. + +I was, I thought, one of the Magi of old Persia, inheritor of its +unforgotten lore, and using some of its powers. I tried to pierce +through the great veil of nature, and feel the life that quickened it +within. I tried to comprehend the birth and growth of planets, and to +do this I rose spiritually and passed beyond earth's confines into that +seeming void which is the Matrix where they germinate. On one of these +journeys I was struck by the phantasm, so it seemed, of a planet I had +not observed before. I could not then observe closer, and coming again +on another occasion it had disappeared. After the lapse of many months +I saw it once more, brilliant with fiery beauty. Its motion was slow, +revolving around some invisible centre. I pondered over it, and seemed +to know that the invisible centre was its primordial spiritual state, +from which it emerged a little while and into which it then withdrew. +Short was its day; its shining faded into a glimmer, and then into +darkness in a few months. I learned its time and cycles; I made +preparations and determined to await its coming. + + +The Birth of a Planet + +At first silence and then an inner music, and then the sounds of song +throughout the vastness of its orbit grew as many in number as there +were stars at gaze. Avenues and vistas of sound! They reeled to and fro. +They poured from a universal stillness quick with unheard things. They +rushed forth and broke into a myriad voices gay with childhood. From age +and the eternal they rushed forth into youth. They filled the void with +reveling and exultation. In rebellion they then returned and entered +the dreadful Fountain. Again they came forth, and the sounds faded into +whispers; they rejoiced once again, and again died into silence. + +And now all around glowed a vast twilight; it filled the cradle of the +planet with colorless fire. I felt a rippling motion which impelled me +away from the centre to the circumference. At that began to curdle, +a milky and nebulous substance rocked to and fro. At every motion the +pulsation of its rhythm carried it farther and farther away from the +centre; it grew darker, and a great purple shadow covered it so that I +could see it no longer. I was now on the outer verge, where the twilight +still continued to encircle the planet with zones of clear transparent +light. + +As night after night I rose up to visit it they grew many-colored and +brighter. I saw the imagination of nature visibly at work. I wandered +through shadowy immaterial forests, a titanic vegetation built up +of light and color; I saw it growing denser, hung with festoons and +trailers of fire, and spotted with the light of myriad flowers such as +earth never knew. Coincident with the appearance of these things I felt +within myself, as if in harmonious movement, a sense of joyousness, an +increase of self-consciousness: I felt full of gladness, youth, and the +mystery of the new. I felt that greater powers were about to appear, +those who had thrown outwards this world and erected it as a place in +space. + +I could not tell half the wonder of this strange race. I could not +myself comprehend more than a little of the mystery of their being. They +recognized my presence there, and communicated with me in such a way +that I can only describe it by saying that they seemed to enter into my +soul, breathing a fiery life; yet I knew that the highest I could reach +to was but the outer verge of their spiritual nature, and to tell you +but a little I have many times to translate it; for in the first unity +with their thought I touched on an almost universal sphere of life, +I peered into the ancient heart that beats throughout time; and this +knowledge became change in me, first into a vast and nebulous symbology, +and so down through many degrees of human thought into words which hold +not at all the pristine and magical beauty. + +I stood before one of this race, and I thought, "What is the meaning +and end of life here?" Within me I felt the answering ecstasy that +illuminated with vistas of dawn and rest: It seemed to say: + +"Our spring and our summer are unfolding into light and form, and our +autumn and winter are a fading into the infinite soul." + +I questioned in my heart, "To what end is this life poured forth and +withdrawn?" + +He came nearer and touched me; once more I felt the thrill of being that +changed itself into vision. + +"The end is creation, and creation is joy. The One awakens out of +quiescence as we come forth, and knows itself in us; as we return we +enter it in gladness, knowing ourselves. After long cycles the world you +live in will become like ours; it will be poured forth and withdrawn; a +mystic breath, a mirror to glass your being." + +He disappeared while I wondered what cyclic changes would transmute our +ball of mud into the subtle substance of thought. + +In that world I dared not stay during its period of withdrawal; having +entered a little into its life, I became subject to its laws; the Powers +on its return would have dissolved my being utterly. I felt with a wild +terror its clutch upon me, and I withdrew from the departing glory, from +the greatness that was my destiny--but not yet. + +From such dreams I would be aroused, perhaps, by a gentle knock at my +door, and my little cousin Margaret's quaint face would peep in with a +"Cousin Robert, are you not coming down to supper?" + +Of these visions in the light of after thought I would speak a +little. All this was but symbol, requiring to be thrice sublimed in +interpretation ere its true meaning can be grasped. I do not know +whether worlds are heralded by such glad songs, or whether any have such +a fleeting existence, for the mind that reflects truth is deluded with +strange phantasies of time and place in which seconds are rolled out +into centuries and long cycles are reflected in an instant of time. +There is within us a little space through which all the threads of the +universe are drawn; and, surrounding that incomprehensible centre, the +mind of man sometimes catches glimpses of things which are true only in +those glimpses; when we record them the true has vanished, and a shadowy +story--such as this--alone remains. Yet, perhaps, the time is not +altogether wasted in considering legends like these, for they reveal, +though but in phantasy and symbol, a greatness we are heirs to, a +destiny which is ours though it be yet far away. + +1894 + + + + + +A DREAM OF ANGUS OGE + + +The day had been wet and wild, and the woods looked dim and drenched +from the window where Con sat. All the day long his ever restless feet +were running to the door in a vain hope of sunshine. His sister, Norah, +to quiet him had told him over and over again the tales which delighted +him, the delight of hearing which was second only to the delight of +living them over himself, when as Cuculain he kept the ford which led to +Ulla, his sole hero heart matching the hosts of Meave; or as Fergus he +wielded the sword of light the Druids made and gave to the champion, +which in its sweep shore away the crests of the mountains; or as +Brian, the ill-fated child of Turann, he went with his brothers in the +ocean-sweeping boat farther than ever Columbus traveled, winning one by +one in dire conflict with kings and enchanters the treasures which would +appease the implacable heart of Lu. + +He had just died in a corner of the room from his many wounds when +Norah came in declaring that all these famous heroes must go to bed. +He protested in vain, but indeed he was sleepy, and before he had +been carried half-way to the room the little soft face drooped with +half-closed eyes, while he drowsily rubbed his nose upon her shoulder +in an effort to keep awake. For a while she flitted about him, looking, +with her dark, shadowy hair flickering in the dim, silver light like +one of the beautiful heroines of Gaelic romance, or one of the twilight, +race of the Sidhe. Before going she sat by his bed and sang to him some +verses of a song, set to an old Celtic air whose low intonations were +full of a half-soundless mystery: + + Over the hill-tops the gay lights are peeping; + Down in the vale where the dim fleeces stray + Ceases the smoke from the hamlet upcreeping: + Come, thou, my shepherd, and lead me away. + +"Who's the shepherd?" said the boy, suddenly sitting up. + +"Hush, alannah, I will tell you another time." She continued still more +softly: + + Lord of the Wand, draw forth from the darkness, + Warp of the silver, and woof of the gold: + Leave the poor shade there bereft in its starkness: + Wrapped in the fleece we will enter the Fold. + + There from the many-orbed heart where the Mother + Breathes forth the love on her darlings who roam, + We will send dreams to their land of another + Land of the Shining, their birthplace and home. + +He would have asked a hundred questions, but she bent over him, +enveloping him with a sudden nightfall of hair, to give him his +good-night kiss, and departed. Immediately the boy sat up again; all his +sleepiness gone. The pure, gay, delicate spirit of childhood was darting +at ideas dimly perceived in the delicious moonlight of romance which +silvered his brain, where may airy and beautiful figures were moving: +The Fianna with floating locks chasing the flying deer; shapes more +solemn, vast, and misty, guarding the avenues to unspeakable secrets; +but he steadily pursued his idea. + +"I guess he's one of the people who take you away to faeryland. Wonder +if he'd come to me? Think it's easy going away," with an intuitive +perception of the frailty of the link binding childhood to earth in its +dreams. (As a man Con will strive with passionate intensity to regain +that free, gay motion in the upper airs.) "Think I'll try if he'll +come," and he sang, with as near an approach as he could make to the +glimmering cadences of his sister's voice: + + Come, thou, my shepherd, and lead me away. + +He then lay back quite still and waited. He could not say whether hours +or minutes had passed, or whether he had slept or not, until he was +aware of a tall golden-bearded man standing by his bed. Wonderfully +light was this figure, as if the sunlight ran through his limbs; a +spiritual beauty was on the face, and those strange eyes of bronze and +gold with their subtle intense gaze made Con aware for the first time of +the difference between inner and out in himself. + +"Come, Con, come away!" the child seemed to hear uttered silently. + +"You're the Shepherd!" said Con, "I'll go." Then suddenly, "I won't come +back and be old when they're all dead?" a vivid remembrance of Ossian's +fate flashing upon him. + +A most beautiful laughter, which again to Con seemed half soundless, +came in reply. His fears vanished; the golden-bearded man stretched a +hand over him for a moment, and he found himself out in the night, now +clear and starlit. Together they moved on as if borne by the wind, past +many woods and silver-gleaming lakes, and mountains which shone like a +range of opals below the purple skies. The Shepherd stood still for a +moment by one of these hills, and there flew out, riverlike, a melody +mingled with a tinkling as of innumerable elfin hammers, and there, was +a sound of many gay voices where an unseen people were holding festival, +or enraptured hosts who were let loose for the awakening, the new day +which was to dawn, for the delighted child felt that faeryland was come +over again with its heroes and battles. + +"Our brothers rejoice," said the Shepherd to Con. + +"Who are they?" asked the boy. + +"They are the thoughts of our Father." + +"May we go in?" Con asked, for he was fascinated by the melody, mystery, +and flashing lights. + +"Not now. We are going to my home where I lived in the days past when +there came to me many kings and queens of ancient Eire, many heroes and +beautiful women, who longed for the Druid wisdom we taught." + +"And did you fight like Finn, and carry spears as tall as trees, and +chase the deer through the Woods, and have feastings and singing?" + +"No, we, the Dananns, did none of those things--but those who were weary +of battle, and to whom feast and song brought no pleasure, came to us +and passed hence to a more wonderful land, a more immortal land than +this." + +As he spoke he paused before a great mound, grown over with trees, and +around it silver clear in the moonlight were immense stones piled, +the remains of an original circle, and there was a dark, low, narrow +entrance leading within. He took Con by the hand, and in an instant +they were standing in a lofty, cross-shaped cave, built roughly of huge +stones. + +"This was my palace. In days past many a one plucked here the purple +flower of magic and the fruit of the tree of life." + +"It is very dark," said the child disconsolately. He had expected +something different. + +"Nay, but look: you will see it is the palace of a god." And even as he +spoke a light began to glow and to pervade the cave and to obliterate +the stone walls and the antique hieroglyphs engraved thereon, and to +melt the earthen floor into itself like a fiery sun suddenly uprisen +within the world, and there was everywhere a wandering ecstasy of +sound: light and sound were one; light had a voice, and the music hung +glittering in the air. + +"Look, how the sun is dawning for us, ever dawning; in the earth, in +our hearts, with ever youthful and triumphant voices. Your sun is but a +smoky shadow, ours the ruddy and eternal glow; yours is far way, ours is +heart and hearth and home; yours is a light without, ours a fire within, +in rock, in river, in plain, everywhere living, everywhere dawning, +whence also it cometh that the mountains emit their wondrous rays." + +As he spoke he seemed to breathe the brilliance of that mystical +sunlight and to dilate and tower, so that the child looked up to a giant +pillar of light, having in his heart a sun of ruddy gold which shed its +blinding rays about him, and over his head there was a waving of fiery +plumage and on his face an ecstasy of beauty and immortal youth. + +"I am Angus," Con heard; "men call me the Young. I am the sunlight in +the heart, the moonlight in the mind; I am the light at the end of every +dream, the voice for ever calling to come away; I am the desire beyond +you or tears. Come with me, come with me, I will make you immortal; +for my palace opens into the Gardens of the Sun, and there are the +fire-fountains which quench the heart's desire in rapture." And in +the child's dream he was in a palace high as the stars, with dazzling +pillars jeweled like the dawn, and all fashioned out of living and +trembling opal. And upon their thrones sat the Danann gods with their +sceptres and diadems of rainbow light, and upon their faces infinite +wisdom and imperishable youth. In the turmoil and growing chaos of his +dream he heard a voice crying out, "You remember, Con, Con, Conaire Mor, +you remember!" and in an instant he was torn from himself and had grown +vaster, and was with the Immortals, seated upon their thrones, they +looking upon him as a brother, and he was flying away with them into the +heart of the gold when he awoke, the spirit of childhood dazzled with +the vision which is too lofty for princes. + +1897 + + + + + +DEIRDRE + + +A LEGEND IN THREE ACTS + + +Dramatis Personae: + + CONCOBAR............... Ardrie of Ulla. + NAISI + AINLE, ARDAN............ Brothers of Naisi. + FERGUS + BUINNE, ILANN.......... Sons of Fergus + CATHVAH................. A Druid + DEIRDRE + LAVARCAN................ A Druidess + Herdsman, + Messenger + + + +ACT I. + + +SCENE.--The dun of DEIRDRE'S captivity. LAVARCAM, a Druidess, sits +before the door in the open air. DEIRDRE comes out of the dun. + +DEIRDRE--Dear fostermother, how the spring is beginning! The music of +the Father's harp is awakening the flowers. Now the winter's sleep is +over, and the spring flows from the lips of the harp. Do you not feel +the thrill in the wind--a joy answering the trembling strings? Dear +fostermother, the spring and the music are in my heart! + +LAVARCAM--The harp has but three notes; and, after sleep and laughter, +the last sound is of weeping. + +DEIRDRE--Why should there be any sorrow while I am with you? I am happy +here. Last night in a dream I saw the blessed Sidhe upon the mountains, +and they looked on me with eyes of love. + +(An old HERDSMAN enters, who bows before LAVARCAM.) + +HERDSMAN--Lady, the High King is coming through the woods. + +LAVARCAM--Deirdre, go to the grianan for a little. You shall tell me +your dream again, my child. + +DEIRDRE--Why am I always hidden from the King's sight. + +LAVARCAM--It is the King's will you should see no one except these aged +servants. + +DEIRDRE--Am I indeed fearful to look upon, foster-mother? I do not think +so, or you would not love me. + +LAVARCAM--It is the King's will. + +DEIRDRE--Yet why must it be so, fostermother? Why must I hide away? Why +must I never leave the valley? + +LAVARCAM--It is the king's will. + +While she is speaking CONCOBAR enters. He stands still and looks on +DEIRDRE. DEIRDRE gazes on the KING for a moment, and then covering her +face with her hands, she hurries into the dun. The HERDSMAN goes out. +LAVARCAM sees and bows before the KING. + +CONCOBAR--Lady, is all well with you and your charge? + +LAVARCAM--All is well. + +CONCOBAR--Is there peace in Deirdre's heart? + +LAVARCAM--She is happy, not knowing a greater happiness than to roam the +woods or to dream of the immortal ones can bring her. + +CONCOBAR--Fate has not found her yet hidden in this valley. + +LAVARCAM--Her happiness is to be here. But she asks why must she never +leave the glen. Her heart quickens within her. Like a bird she listens +to the spring, and soon the valley will be narrow as a cage. + +CONCOBAR--I cannot open the cage. Less ominous the Red Swineherd at a +feast than this beautiful child in Ulla. You know the word of the Druids +at her birth. + +LAVARCAM--Aye, through her would come the destruction of the Red Branch. +But sad is my heart, thinking of her lonely youth. + +CONCOBAR--The gods did not guide us how the ruin might be averted. The +Druids would have slain her, but I set myself against the wise ones, +thinking in my heart that the chivalry of the Red Branch would be +already gone if this child were slain. If we are to perish it shall be +nobly, and without any departure from the laws of our order. So I have +hidden her away from men, hoping to stay the coming of fate. + +LAVARCAM--King, your mercy will return to you, and if any of the Red +Branch fall, you will not fall. + +CONCOBAR--If her thoughts turned only to the Sidhe her heart would grow +cold to the light love that warriors give. The birds of Angus cannot +breathe or sing their maddening song in the chill air that enfolds the +wise. For this, Druidess, I made thee her fosterer. Has she learned to +know the beauty of the ever-living ones, after which the earth fades and +no voice can call us back? + +LAVARCAM--The immortals have appeared to her in vision and looked on her +with eyes of love. + +CONCOBAR--Her beauty is so great it would madden whole hosts, and turn +them from remembrance of their duty. We must guard well the safety of +the Red Branch. Druidess, you have seen with subtle eyes the shining +life beyond this. But through the ancient traditions of Ulla, which the +bards have kept and woven into song, I have seen the shining law enter +men's minds, and subdue the lawless into love of justice. A great +tradition is shaping a heroic race; and the gods who fought at Moytura +are descending and dwelling in the heart of the Red Branch. Deeds will +be done in our time as mighty as those wrought by the giants who battled +at the dawn; and through the memory of our days and deeds the gods will +build themselves an eternal empire in the mind of the Gael. Wise woman, +guard well this beauty which fills my heart with terror. I go now, and +will doubly warn the spearmen at the passes, but will come hither again +and speak with thee of these things, and with Deirdre I would speak +also. + +LAVARCAM--King of Ulla, be at peace. It is not I who will break through +the design of the gods. (CONCOBAR goes through the woods, after looking +for a time at the door of the dun.) But Deirdre is also one of the +immortals. What the gods desire will utter itself through her heart. I +will seek counsel from the gods. + +[DEIRDRE comes slowly through the door.] + +DEIRDRE--Is he gone? I fear this stony king with his implacable eyes. + +LAVARVAM--He is implacable only in his desire for justice. + +DEIRDRE--No! No! There is a hunger in his eyes for I know not what. + +LAVARCAM--He is the wisest king who ever sat on the chair of Macha. + +DEIRDRE--He has placed a burden on my heart. Oh! fostermother, the harp +of life is already trembling into sorrow! + +LAVARCAM--Do not think of him. Tell me your dream, my child. + +[DEIRDRE comes from the door of the dun and sits on a deerskin at +LAVARCAM's feet.] + +DEIRDRE--Tell me, do happy dreams bring happiness, and do our dreams of +the Sidhe ever grow real to us as you are real to me? Do their eyes draw +nigh to ours, and can the heart we dream of ever be a refuge for our +hearts. + +LAVARCAM--Tell me your dream. + +DEIRDRE--Nay; but answer first of all, dear fostermother--you who are +wise, and who have talked with the Sidhe. + +LAVARCAM--Would it make you happy to have your dream real, my darling? + +DEIRDRE--Oh, it would make me happy! + +[She hides her face on LAVARCAM's knees.] + +LAVARCAM--If I can make your dream real, I will, my beautiful fawn. + +DEIRDRE--Dear fostermother, I think my dream is coming near to me. It is +coming to me now. + +LAVARCAM--Deirdre, tell me what hope has entered your heart? + +DEIRDRE--In the night I saw in a dream the top of the mountain yonder, +beyond the woods, and three hunters stood there in the dawn. The sun +sent its breath upon their faces, but there was a light about them never +kindled at the sun. They were surely hunters from some heavenly field, +or the three gods whom Lu condemned to wander in mortal form, and they +are come again to the world to seek some greater treasure. + +LAVARCAM--Describe to me these immortal hunters. In Eire we know no gods +who take such shape appearing unto men. + +DEIRDRE--I cannot now make clear to thee my remembrance of two of the +hunters, but the tallest of the three--oh, he stood like a flame against +the flameless sky, and the whole sapphire of the heavens seemed to live +in his fearless eyes! His hair was darker than the raven's wing, his +face dazzling in its fairness. He pointed with his great flame-bright +spear to the valley. His companions seemed in doubt, and pointed east +and west. Then in my dream I came nigh him and whispered in his ear, and +pointed the way through the valley to our dun. I looked into his +eyes, and he started like one who sees a vision; and I know, dear +fostermother, he will come here, and he will love me. Oh, I would die if +he did not love me! + +LAVARCAM--Make haste, my child, and tell me was there aught else +memorable about this hero and his companions? + +DEIRDRE--Yes, I remember each had the likeness of a torch shedding rays +of gold embroidered on the breast. + +LAVARCAM--Deirdre, Deirdre, these are no phantoms, but living heroes! +O wise king, the eyes of the spirit thou wouldst open have seen farther +than the eyes of the body thou wouldst blind! The Druid vision has only +revealed to this child her destiny. + +DEIRDRE--Why do you talk so strangely, fostermother? + +LAVARCAM--Concobar, I will not fight against the will of the immortals. +I am not thy servant, but theirs. Let the Red Branch fall! If the gods +scatter it they have chosen to guide the people of Ulla in another I +path. + +DEIRDRE--What has disturbed your mind, dear foster-mother? What have +I to do with the Red Branch? And why should the people of Ulla fall +because of me? + +LAVARCAM--O Deirdre, there were no warriors created could overcome the +Red Branch. The gods have but smiled on this proud chivalry through +thine eyes, and they are already melted. The waving of thy hand is +more powerful to subdue than the silver rod of the king to sustain. Thy +golden hair shall be the flame to burn up Ulla. + +DEIDRE--Oh, what do you mean by these fateful prophecies? You fill me +with terror. Why should a dream so gentle and sweet portend sorrow? + +LAVARCAM--Dear golden head, cast sorrow aside for a time. The Father has +not yet struck the last chords on the harp of life. The chords of joy +have but begun for thee. + +DEIRDRE--You confuse my mind, dear fostermother, with your speech of joy +and sorrow. It is not your wont. Indeed, I think my dream portends joy. + +LAVARCAM--It is love, Deirdre, which is coming to thee. Love, which thou +hast never known. + +DEIRDRE--But I love thee, dearest and kindest of guardians. + +LAVARCAM--Oh, in this love heaven and earth will be forgotten, and your +own self unremembered, or dim and far off as a home the spirit fives in +no longer. + +DEIRDRE--Tell me, will the hunter from the hills come to us? I think I +could forget all for him. + +LAVARCAM--He is not one of the Sidhe, but the proudest and bravest of +the Red Branch, Naisi, son of Usna. Three lights of valor among the +Ultonians are Naisi and his brothers. + +DEIRDRE--Will he love me, fostermother, as you love me, and will he live +with us here? + +LAVARCAM--Nay, where he goes you must go, and he must fly afar to live +with you. But I will leave you now for a little, child, I would divine +the future. + +[LAVARCAM kisses DEIRDRE and goes within the dun. DEIRDRE walks to and +fro before the door. NAISI enters. He sees DEIRDRE, who turns and looks +at him, pressing her hands to her breast. Naisi bows before DEIRDRE.] + +NAISI--Goddess, or enchantress, thy face shone on me at dawn on the +mountain. Thy lips called me hither, and I have come. + +DEIRDRE--I called thee, dear Naisi. + +NAISI--Oh, knowing my name, never before having spoken to me, thou must +know my heart also. + +DEIRDRE--Nay, I know not. Tell me what is in thy heart. + +NAISI--O enchantress, thou art there. The image of thine eyes is there +and thy smiling lips, and the beating of my heart is muffled in a cloud +of thy golden tresses. + +DEIRDRE--Say on, dear Naisi. + +NAISI--I have told thee all. Thou only art in my heart. + +DEIRDRE--But I have never ere this spoken to any man. Tell me more. + +NAISI--If thou hast never before spoken to any man, then indeed art thou +one of the immortals, and my hope is vain. Hast thou only called me to +thy world to extinguish my life hereafter in memories of thee? + +DEIRDRE--What wouldst thou with me, dear Naisi? + +NAISI--I would carry thee to my dun by the sea of Moyle, O beautiful +woman, and set thee there on an ivory throne. The winter would not chill +thee there, nor the summer burn thee, for I would enfold thee with my +love, enchantress, if thou camest--to my world. Many warriors are there +of the clan Usna, and two brothers I have who are strong above any +hosts, and they would all die with me for thy sake. + +DEIRDRE (taking the hands of NAISI)--I will go with thee where thou +goest. (Leaning her head on NAISI's shoulder.) Oh, fostermother, too +truly hast thou spoken! I know myself not. My spirit has gone from me to +this other heart for ever. + +NAISI--Dost thou forego thy shining world for me? + +LAVARCAM--(coming out of the dun). Naisi, this is the Deirdre of the +prophecies. + +NAISI--Deirdre! Deirdre! I remember in some old tale of my childhood +that name. (Fiercely.) It was a lying prophecy. What has this girl to do +with the downfall of Ulla? + +LAVARCAM--Thou art the light of the Ultonian's, Naisi, but thou art +not the star of knowledge. The Druids spake truly. Through her, but not +through her sin, will come the destruction of the Red Branch. + +NAISI--I have counted death as nothing battling for the Red Branch; and +I would not, even for Deirdre, war upon my comrades. But Deirdre I will +not leave nor forget for a thousand prophecies made by the Druids +in their dotage. If the Red Branch must fall, it will fall through +treachery; but Deirdre I will love, and in my love is no dishonor, nor +any broken pledge. + +LAVARCAM--Remember, Naisi, the law of the king. It is death to thee to +be here. Concobar is even now in the woods, and will come hither again. + +DEIRDRE--Is it death to thee to love me, Naisi? Oh, fly quickly, and +forget me. But first, before thou goest, bend down thy head--low--rest +it on my bosom. Listen to the beating of my heart. That passionate +tumult is for thee! There, I have kissed thee. I have sweet memories for +ever-lasting. Go now, my beloved, quickly. I fear--I fear for thee this +stony king. + +NAISI--I do not fear the king, nor will I fly hence. It is due to the +chief of the Red Branch that I should stay and face him, having set my +mill against his. + +LAVARCAM--You cannot remain now. + +NAISI--It is due to the king. + +LAVARCAM--You must go; both must go. Do not cloud your heart with dreams +of a false honor. It is not your death only, but Deirdre's which will +follow. Do you think the Red Branch would spare her, after your death, +to extinguish another light of valor, and another who may wander here? + +NAISI--I will go with Deirdre to Alba. + +DEIRDRE--Through life or to death I will go with thee, Naisi. + +[Voices of AINLE and ARDAN are heard in the wood.] + +ARDAN--I think Naisi went this way. + +AINLE--He has been wrapt in a dream since the dawn. See! This is his +footstep in the clay! + +ARDAN--I heard voices. + +AINLE--(entering with ARDAN) Here is our dream-led brother. + +NAISI--Ainle and Ardan, this is Deirdre, your sister. I have broken +through the command of the king, and fly with her to Alba to avoid +warfare with the Red Branch. + +ARDAN--Our love to thee, beautiful sister. + +AINLE--Dear maiden, thou art already in my heart with Naisi. + +LAVARCAM--You cannot linger here. With Concobar the deed follows swiftly +the counsel; tonight his spearmen will be on your track. + +NAISI--Listen, Ainle and Ardan. Go you to Emain Macha. It may be the Red +Branch will make peace between the king and myself. You are guiltless in +this flight. + +AINLE--Having seen Deirdre, my heart is with you, brother, and I also am +guilty. + +ARDAN--I think, being here, we, too, have broken the command of the +king. We will go with thee to Alba, dear brother and sister. + +LAVARCAM--Oh, tarry not, tarry not! Make haste while there is yet time. +The thoughts of the king are circling around Deirdre as wolves around +the fold. Try not the passes of the valley, but over the hills. The +passes are all filled with the spearmen of the king. + +NAISI--We will carry thee over the mountains, Deirdre, and tomorrow will +see us nigh to the isles of Alba. + +DEIRDRE--Farewell, dear fostermother. I have passed the faery sea since +dawn, and have found the Island of Joy. Oh, see! what bright birds are +around us, with dazzling wings! Can you not hear their singing? Oh, +bright birds, make music for ever around my love and me! + +LAVARCAM--They are the birds of Angus. Their singing brings love--and +death. + +DEIRDRE--Nay, death has come before love, dear fostermother, and all I +was has vanished like a dewdrop in the sun. Oh, beloved, let us go. We +are leaving death behind us in the valley. + +[DEIRDRE and the brothers go through the wood. LAVARCAM watches, and +when they are out of sight sits by the door of the dun with her head +bowed to her knees. After a little CONCOBAR enters.] + +CONCOBAR--Where is Deirdre? + +LAVARCAM--(not lifting her head). Deirdre has left death behind her, and +has entered into the Kingdom of her Youth. + +CONCOBAR--Do not speak to me in portents. Lift up your head, Druidess. +Where is Deirdre? + +LAVARCAM--(looking up). Deirdre is gone! + +CONCOBAR--By the high gods, tell me whither, and who has dared to take +her hence? + +LAVARCAM--She has fled with Naisi, son of Usna, and is beyond your +vengeance, king. + +CONCOBAR--Woman, I swear by Balor, Tethra, and all the brood of demons, +I will have such a vengeance a thousand years hereafter shall be +frightened at the tale. If the Red Branch is to fall, it will sink at +least in the seas of the blood of the clan Usna. + +LAVARCAM--O king, the doom of the Red Branch had already gone forth when +you suffered love for Deirdre to enter your heart. + +[Scene closes.] + + + + +ACT II. + + +SCENE.--In a dun by Loch Etive. Through the open door can be seen lakes +and wooded islands in a silver twilight. DEIRDRE stands at the door +looking over the lake. NAISI is within binding a spearhead to the shaft. + +DEIRDRE--How still is the twilight! It is the sunset, not of one, but +of many days--so still, so still, so living! The enchantment of Dana is +upon the lakes and islands and woods, and the Great Father looks down +through the deepening heavens. + +NAISI--Thou art half of their world, beautiful woman, and it seems +fair to me, gazing on thine eyes. But when thou art not beside me the +flashing of spears is more to be admired than a whole heaven-full of +stars. + +DEIRDRE--O Naisi! still dost thou long, for the Red Branch and the peril +of battles and death. + +NAISI--Not for the Red Branch, nor the peril of battles, nor death, do I +long. But-- + +DEIRDRE--But what, Naisi? What memory of Eri hast thou hoarded in thy +heart? + +NAISI--(bending over his spear) It is nothing, Deirdre. + +DEIRDRE--It is a night of many days, Naisi. See, all the bright day had +hidden is revealed! Look, there! A star! and another star! They could +not see each other through the day, for the hot mists of the sun were +about them. Three years of the sun have we passed in Alba, Naisi, and +now, O star of my heart, truly do I see you, this night of many days. + +NAISI--Though my breast lay clear as a crystal before thee, thou couldst +see no change in my heart. + +DEIRDRE--There is no change, beloved; but I see there one memory warring +on thy peace. + +NAISI--What is it then, wise woman? + +DEIRDRE--O Naisi, I have looked within thy heart, and thou hast there +imagined a king with scornful eyes thinking of thy flight. + +NAISI--By the gods, but it is true! I would give this kingdom I have won +in Alba to tell the proud monarch I fear him not. + +DEIRDRE--O Naisi, that thought will draw thee back to Eri, and to I know +not what peril and death beyond the seas. + +NAISI--I will not war on the Red Branch. They were ever faithful +comrades. Be at peace, Deirdre. + +DEIRDRE--Oh, how vain it is to say to the heart, "Be at peace," when the +heart will not rest! Sorrow is on me, beloved, and I know not wherefore. +It has taken the strong and fast place of my heart, and sighs there +hidden in my love for thee. + +NAISI--Dear one, the songs of Ainle and the pleasant tales of Ardan will +drive away thy sorrow. + +DEIRDRE--Ainle and Ardan! Where are they? They linger long. + +NAISI--They are watching a sail that set hitherward from the south. + +DEIRDRE--A sail! + +NAISI--A sail! What is there to startle thee in that? Have not a +thousand galleys lain in Loch Etive since I built this dun by the sea. + +DEIRDRE--I do not know, but my spirit died down in my heart as you +spake. I think the wind that brings it blows from Eri, and it is it has +brought sorrow to me. + +NAISI--My beautiful one, it is but a fancy. It is some merchant comes +hither to barter Tyrian cloths for the cunning work of our smiths. But +glad would I be if he came from Eri, and I would feast him here for a +night, and sit round a fire of turves and hear of the deeds of the Red +Branch. + +DEIRDRE--Your heart for ever goes out to the Red Branch, Naisi. Were +there any like unto thee, or Ainle, or Ardan? + +NAISI--We were accounted most skilful, but no one was held to be braver +than another. If there were one it was great Fergus who laid aside the +silver rod which he held as Ardrie of Ulla, but he is in himself greater +than any king. + +DEIRDRE--And does one hero draw your heart back to Eri? + +NAISI--A river of love, indeed, flows from my heart unto Fergus, for +there is no one more noble. But there were many others, Conal, and the +boy we called Cuculain, a dark, sad child, who was the darling of the +Red Branch, and truly he seemed like one who would be a world-famous +warrior. There were many held him to be a god in exile. + +DEIRDRE--I think we, too, are in exile in this world. But tell me who +else among the Red Branch do you think of with love? + +NAISI--There was the Ardrie, Concobar, whom no man knows, indeed, for he +is unfathomable. But he is a wise king, though moody and passionate +at times, for he was cursed in his youth for a sin against one of the +Sidhe. + +DEIRDRE--Oh, do not speak of him! My heart falls at the thought of him +as into a grave, and I know I will die when we meet. + +NAISI--I know one who will die before that, my fawn. + +DEIRDRE--Naisi! You remember when we fled that night; as I lay by thy +side--thou wert yet strange to me--I heard voices speaking out of the +air. The great ones were invisible, yet their voices sounded solemnly. +"Our brother and our sister do not remember," one said; and another +spake: "They will serve the purpose all the same," and there was more +which I could not understand, but I knew we were to bring some great +gift to the Gael. Yesternight, in a dream, I heard the voices again, and +I cannot recall what they said; but as I woke from sleep my pillow was +wet with tears falling softly, as out of another world, and I saw before +me thy face, pale and still, Naisi, and the king, with his implacable +eyes. Oh, pulse of my heart, I know the gift we shall give to the Gael +will be a memory to pity and sigh over, and I shall be the priestess of +tears. Naisi, promise me you will never go back to Ulla--swear to me, +Naisi. + +NAISI--I will, if-- + +[Here AINLE and ARDAN enter.] + +AINLE--Oh, great tidings, brother! + +DEIRDRE--I feel fate is stealing on us with the footsteps of those we +love. Before they speak, promise me, Naisi. + +AINLE--What is it, dear sister? Naisi will promise thee anything, and if +he does not we will make him do it all the same. + +DEIDRE--Oh, let me speak! Both Death and the Heart's Desire are speeding +to win the race. Promise me, Naisi, you will never return to Ulla. + +ARDAN--Naisi, it were well to hear what tale may come from Emain Macha. +One of the Red Branch displays our banner on a galley from the South. I +have sent a boat to bring this warrior to our dun. It may be Concobar is +dead. + +DEIRDRE--Why should we return? Is not the Clan Usna greater here than +ever in Eri. + +AINLE--Dear sister, it is the land which gave us birth, which ever like +a mother whispered to us, and its whisper is sweeter than the promise +of beloved lips. Though we are kings here in Alba we are exiles, and the +heart is afar from its home. [A distant shout is heard.] + +NAISI--I hear a call like the voice of a man of Eri. + +DEIRDRE--It is only a herdsman calling home his cattle. (She puts her +arms round NAISI's neck.) Beloved, am I become so little to you that +your heart is empty, and sighs for Eri? + +NAISI--Deirdre, in my flight I have brought with me many whose desire is +afar, while you are set as a star by my side. They have left their own +land and many a maiden sighs for the clansmen who never return. There is +also the shadow of fear on my name, because I fled and did not face the +king. Shall I swear to keep my comrades in exile, and let the shame of +fear rest on the chieftain of their clan? + +DEIRDRE--Can they not go? Are we not enough for each other, for surely +to me thou art hearth and home, and where thou art there the dream ends, +and beyond it. There is no other dream. [A voice is heard without, more +clearly calling.] + +AINLE--It is a familiar voice that calls! And I thought I heard thy +name, Naisi. + +ARDAN--It is the honey-sweet speech of a man of Eri. + +DEIRDRE--It is one of our own clansmen. Naisi, will you not speak? The +hour is passing, and soon there will be naught but a destiny. + +FERGUS--(without) Naisi! Naisi! + +NAISI--A deep voice, like the roar of a storm god! It is Fergus who +comes from Eri. + +ARDAN--He comes as a friend. There is no treachery in the Red Branch. + +AINLE.--Let us meet him, and give him welcome! [The brothers go to +the door of the dun. DEIRDRE leans against the wall with terror in her +eyes.] + +DEIRDRE--(in a low broken voice). Naisi! (NAISI returns to her side. +AINLE and ARDAN go out. DEIRDRE rests one hand on NAISI's shoulders and +with the other points upwards.) Do you not see them? The bright birds +which sang at our flight! Look, how they wheel about us as they sing! +What a heart-rending music! And their plumage, Naisi! It is all dabbled +with crimson; and they shake a ruddy dew from their wings upon us! Your +brow is stained with the drops. Let me clear away the stains. They pour +over your face and hands. Oh! [She hides her face on NAISI's breast.] + +NAISI--Poor, frightened one, there are no birds! See, how clear are my +hands! Look again on my face. + +DEIRDRE--(looking up for an instant). Oh! blind, staring eyes. + +NAISI--Nay, they are filled with love, light of my heart. What has +troubled your mind? Am I not beside you, and a thousand clansmen around +our dun? + +DEIRDRE--They go, and the music dies out. What was it Lavarcam said? +Their singing brings love and death. + +NAISI--What matters death, for love will find us among the Ever Living +Ones. We are immortals and it does not become us to grieve. + +DEIRDRE--Naisi, there is some treachery in the coming of Fergus. + +NAISI--I say to you, Deirdre, that treachery is not to be spoken of with +Fergus. He was my fosterer, who taught me all a chieftain should feel, +and I shall not now accuse him on the foolish fancy of a woman. (He +turns from DEIRDRE, and as he nears the door FERGUS enters with hands +laid affectionately on a shoulder of each of the brothers; BUINNE and +ILANN follow.) Welcome, Fergus! Glad is my heart at your coming, whether +you bring good tidings or ill! + +FERGUS--I would not have crossed the sea of Moyle to bring thee ill +tidings, Naisi. (He sees DEIRDRE.) My coming has affrighted thy lady, +who shakes like the white wave trembling before its fall. I swear to +thee, Deirdre, that the sons of Usna are dear to me as children to a +father. + +DEIRDRE--The Birds of Angus showed all fiery and crimson as you came! + +BUINNE--If we are not welcome in this dun let us return! + +FERGUS--Be still, hasty boy. + +ILANN--The lady Deirdre has received some omen or warning on our +account. When the Sidhe declare their will, we should with due awe +consider it. + +ARDAN--Her mind has been troubled by a dream of some ill to Naisi. + +NAISI--It was not by dreaming evils that the sons of Usna grew to be +champions in Ulla. And I took thee to my heart, Deirdre, though the +Druids trembled to murmur thy name. + +FERGUS--If we listened to dreamers and foretellers the sword would never +flash from its sheath. In truth, I have never found the Sidhe send omens +to warriors; they rather bid them fly to herald our coming. + +DEIRDRE--And what doom comes with thee now that such omens fled before +thee? I fear thy coming, warrior. I fear the Lights of Valor will be +soon extinguished. + +FERGUS--Thou shalt smile again, pale princess, when thou hast heard my +tale. It is not to the sons of Usna I would bring sorrow. Naisi, thou +art free to return to Ulla. + +NAISI--Does the king then forego his vengeance? + +DEIRDRE--The king will never forego his vengeance. I have looked on his +face--the face of one who never changes his purpose. + +FERGUS--He sends forgiveness and greetings. + +DEIRDRE--O Naisi, he sends honied words by the mouth of Fergus, but the +pent-up death broods in his own heart. + +BUINNE--We were tempest-beaten, indeed, on the sea of Moyle, but the +storm of this girl's speech is more fearful to face. + +FERGUS--Your tongue is too swift, Buinne. I say to you, Deirdre, that if +all the kings of Eri brooded ill to Naisi, they dare not break through +my protection. + +NAISI--It is true, indeed, Fergus, though I have never asked any +protection save my own sword. It is a chill welcome you give to Fergus +and his sons, Deirdre. Ainle, tell them within to make ready the +feasting hall. [AINLE goes into an inner room.] + +DEIRDRE--I pray thy pardon, warrior. Thy love for Naisi I do not doubt. +But in this holy place there is peace, and the doom that Cathvah the +Druid cried cannot fall. And oh, I feel, too, there, is One here among +us who pushes us silently from the place of life, and we are drifting +away--away from the world, on a tide which goes down into the darkness! + +ARDAN--The darkness is in your mind alone, poor sister. Great is our joy +to hear the message of Fergus. + +NAISI--It is not like the king to change his will. Fergus, what has +wrought upon his mind? + +FERGUS--He took counsel with the Druids and Lavarcam, and thereafter +spake at Emain Macha, that for no woman in the world should the sons of +Usna be apart from the Red Branch. And so we all spake joyfully; and I +have come with the king's message of peace, for he knew that for none +else wouldst thou return. + +NAISI--Surely, I will go with thee, Fergus. I long for the shining +eyes of friends and the fellowship of the Red Branch, and to see my own +country by the sea of Moyle. I weary of this barbarous people in Alba. + +DEIRDRE--O children of Usna, there is death in your going! Naisi, will +you not stay the storm bird of sorrow? I forehear the falling of tears +that cease not, and in generations unborn the sorrow of it all that will +never be stilled! + +NAISI--Deirdre! Deirdre! It is not right for you, beautiful woman, +to come with tears between a thousand exiles and their own land! Many +battles have I fought, knowing well there would be death and weeping +after. If I feared to trust to the word of great kings and warriors, it +is not with tears I would be remembered. What would the bards sing of +Naisi--without trust! afraid of the outstretched hand!--freighted by a +woman's fears! By the gods, before the clan Usna were so shamed I would +shed my blood here with my own hand. + +DEIRDRE--O stay, stay your anger! Have pity on me, Naisi! Your words, +like lightnings, sear my heart. Never again will I seek to stay thee. +But speak to me with love once more, Naisi. Do not bend your brows on me +with anger; for, oh! but a little time remains for us to love! + +FERGUS--Nay, Deirdre, there are many years. Thou shalt yet smile back on +this hour in thy old years thinking of the love and laughter between. + +AINLE--(entering) The feast is ready for our guests. + +ARDAN--The bards shall sing of Eri tonight. Let the harpers sound their +gayest music. Oh, to be back once more in royal Emain! + +NAISI--Come, Deirdre, forget thy fears. Come, Fergus, I long to hear +from thy lips of the Red Branch and Ulla. + +FERGUS--It is geasa with me not to refuse a feast offered by one of the +Red Branch. + +[FERGUS, BUINNE, ILANN, and the sons of Usna go into the inner room. +DEIRDRE remains silently standing for a time, as if stunned. The sound +of laughter and music floats in. She goes to the door of the dun, +looking out again over the lakes and islands.] + +DEIRDRE--Farewell O home of happy memories. Though thou art bleak to +Naisi, to me thou art bright. I shall never see thee more, save as +shadows we wander here, weeping over what is gone. Farewell, O gentle +people, who made music for me on the hills. The Father has struck the +last chord on the Harp of Life, and the music I shall hear hereafter +will be only sorrow. O Mother Dana, who breathed up love through the dim +earth to my heart, be with me where I am going. Soon shall I lie close +to thee for comfort, where many a broken heart has lain and many a +weeping head. [Music of harps and laughter again floats in.] + +VOICES--Deirdre! Deirdre! Deirdre! + +[DEIRDRE leaves the door of the dun, and the scene closes as she flings +herself on a couch, burying her face in her arms.] + + + + +ACT III. + + +SCENE.--The House of the Red Branch at Emain Macha. There is a door +covered with curtains, through which the blue light of evening can be +seen. CONCOBAR sits at a table on which is a chessboard, with figures +arranged. LAVARCAM stands before the table. + +CONCOBAR--The air is dense with omens, but all is uncertain. Cathvah, +for all his Druid art, is uncertain, and cannot foresee the future; +and in my dreams, too, I again see Macha, who died at my feet, and she +passes by me with a secret exultant smile. O Druidess, is the sin of my +boyhood to be avenged by this woman who comes back to Eri in a cloud of +prophecy? + +LAVARCAM--The great beauty has passed from Deirdre in her wanderings +from place to place and from island to island. Many a time has she slept +on the bare earth ere Naisi won a kingdom for himself in Alba. Surely +the prophecy has already been fulfilled, for blood has been shed for +Deirdre, and the Red Branch divided on her account. To Naisi the Red +Branch are as brothers. Thou hast naught to fear. + +CONCOBAR--Well, I have put aside my fears and taken thy counsel, +Druidess. For the sake of the Red Branch I have forgiven the sons of +Usna. Now, I will call together the Red Branch, for it is my purpose +to bring the five provinces under our sway, and there shall be but one +kingdom in Eri between the seas. [A distant shouting of many voices is +heard. LAVARCAM starts, clasping her hands.] + +Why dost thou start, Druidess? Was it not foretold from of old, that the +gods would rule over one people in Eri? I sometimes think the warrior +soul of Lu shines through the boy Cuculain, who, after me, shall guide +the Red Branch; aye, and with him are many of the old company who fought +at Moytura, come back to renew the everlasting battle. Is not this the +Isle of Destiny, and the hour at hand? [The clamor is again renewed.] + +What, is this clamor as if men hailed a king? (Calls.) Is there +one without there? (ILANN enters.) Ah! returned from Alba with the +fugitives! + +ILANN--King, we have fulfilled our charge. The sons of Usna are with us +in Emain Macha. Whither is it your pleasure they should be led? + +CONCOBAR--They shall be lodged here, in the House of the Red Branch. +(ILANN is about to withdraw.) Yet, wait, what mean all these cries as of +astonished men? + +ILANN--The lady, Deirdre, has come with us, and her beauty is a wonder +to the gazers in the streets, for she moves among them like one of the +Sidhe, whiter than ivory, with long hair of gold, and her eyes, like the +blue flame of twilight, make mystery in their hearts. + +CONCOBAR--(starting up) This is no fading beauty who returns! You hear, +Druidess! + +ILANN--Ardrie of Ulla, whoever has fabled to thee that the beauty of +Deirdre is past has lied. She is sorrowful, indeed, but her sadness only +bows the heart to more adoration than her joy, and pity for her seems +sweeter than the dream of love. Fading! Yes, her yesterday fades behind +her every morning, and every changing mood seems only an unveiling to +bring her nearer to the golden spirit within. But how could I describe +Deirdre? In a little while she will be here, and you shall see her with +your own eyes. [ILLAN bows and goes out] + +CONCOBAR--I will, indeed, see her with my own eyes. I will not, on the +report of a boy, speak words that shall make the Red Branch to drip with +blood. I will see with my own eyes. (He goes to the door.) But I swear +to thee, Druidess, if thou hast plotted deceit a second time with Naisi, +that all Eri may fall asunder, but I will be avenged. + +[He holds the curtain aside with one hand and looks out. As he gazes +his face grows sterner, and he lifts his hand above his head in menace. +LAVARCAM looks on with terror, and as he drops the curtain and looks +back on her, she lets her face sink in her hands.] + +CONCOBAR--(scornfully) A Druid makes prophecies and a Druidess schemes +to bring them to pass! Well have you all worked together! A fading +beauty was to return, and the Lights of Valor to shine again in the +Red-Branch! And I, the Ardrie of Ulla and the head of the Red Branch, to +pass by the broken law and the after deceit! I, whose sole thought was +of the building up of a people, to be set aside! The high gods may judge +me hereafter, but tonight shall see the broken law set straight, and +vengeance on the traitors to Ulla! + +LAVARCAM--It was all my doing! They are innocent! I loved Deirdre, O +king! let your anger be on me alone. + +CONCOBAR--Oh, tongue of falsehood! Who can believe you! The fate of Ulla +was in your charge, and you let it go forth at the instant wish of a +man and a girl's desire. The fate of Ulla was too distant, and you must +bring it nigher--the torch to the pile! Breakers of the law and makers +of lies, you shall all perish together! + +[CONCOBAR leaves the room. LAVARCAM remains, her being shaken with sobs. +After a pause NAISI enters with DEIRDRE. AINLE, ARDAN, ILANN, and BUINNE +follow. During the dialogue which ensues, NAISI is inattentive, and is +curiously examining the chess-board.] + +DEIRDRE--We are entering a house of death! Who is it that weeps so? I, +too, would weep, but the children of Usna are too proud to let tears be +seen in the eyes of their women. (She sees LAVARCAM, who raises her head +from the table.) O fostermother, for whom do you sorrow? Ah! it is for +us. You still love me dear fostermother; but you, who are wise, could +you not have warned the Lights of Valor? Was it kind to keep silence, +and only meet us here with tears? + +LAVARCAM--O Deirdre, my child! my darling! I have let love and longing +blind my eyes. I left the mountain home of the gods for Emain Macha, +and to plot for your return. I--I deceived the king. I told him your +loveliness was passed, and the time of the prophecy gone by. I thought +when you came all would be well. I thought wildly, for love had made a +blindness in my heart, and now the king has discovered the deceit; and, +oh! he has gone away in wrath, and soon his terrible hand will fall! + +DEIRDRE--It was not love made you all blind, but the high gods have +deserted us, and the demons draw us into a trap. They have lured us from +Alba, and they hover here above us in red clouds--cloud upon cloud--and +await the sacrifice. + +LAVARACAM--Oh, it is not yet too late! Where is Fergus? The king dare +not war on Fergus. Fergus is our only hope. + +DEIRDRE--Fergus has bartered his honor for a feast. He remained with +Baruch that he might boast he never refused the wine cup. He feasts with +Baruch, and the Lights of Valor who put their trust in him--must die. + +BUINNE--Fergus never bartered his honor. I do protest, girl, against +your speech. The name of Fergus alone would protect you throughout all +Eri; how much more here, where he is champion in Ulla. Come, brother, we +are none of us needed here. [BUINNE leaves the room.] + +DEIRDRE--Father and son alike desert us! O fostermother, is this the end +of all? Is there no way out? Is there no way out? + +ILANN--I will not desert you, Deirdre, while I can still thrust a spear. +But you, fear overmuch without a cause. + +LAVARACAM--Bar up the door and close the windows. I will send a swift +messenger for Fergus. If you hold the dun until Fergus comes all will +yet be well. [LAVARCAM hurries out.] + +DEIRDRE---(going to NAISI)--Naisi, do you not hear? Let the door be +barred! Ainle and Ardan, are you still all blind? Oh! must I close them +with my own hand! + +[DEIRDRE goes to the Window, and lays her hand on the bars NAISI follows +her.] + +NAISI--Deirdre, in your girlhood you have not known of the ways of the +Red Branch. This thing you fear is unheard of in Ulla. The king may +be wrathful; but the word, once passed, is inviolable. If he whispered +treachery to one of the Red Branch he would not be Ardrie tomorrow. +Nay, leave the window unbarred, or they will say the sons of Usna have +returned timid as birds! Come, we are enough protection for thee. See, +here is the chessboard of Concobar, with which he is wont to divine, +playing a lonely game with fate. The pieces are set. We will finish the +game, and so pass the time until the feast is ready. (He sits down) The +golden pieces are yours and the silver mine. + +AINLE--(looking at the board) You have given Deirdre the weaker side. + +NAISI--Deirdre always plays with more cunning skill. + +DEIRDRE--O fearless one, if he who set the game played with fate, the +victory is already fixed, and no skill may avail. + +NAISI--We will see if Concobar has favourable omens. It is geasa for him +always to play with silver pieces. I will follow his game. It is your +move. Dear one, will you not smile? Surely, against Concobar you will +play well. + +DEIRDRE--It is too late. See, everywhere my king is threatened! + +ARDAN--Nay, your game is not lost. If you move your king back all will +be well. + +MESSENGER--(at the door) I bear a message from the Ardrie to the sons of +Usna. + +NAISI--Speak out thy message, man. Why does thy voice tremble? Who art +thou? I do not know thee. Thou art not one of the Red Branch. Concobar +is not wont to send messages to kings by such as thou. + +MESSENGER--The Red Branch are far from Emain Macha--but it matters not. +The king has commanded me to speak thus to the sons of Usna. You have +broken the law of Ulla when you stole away the daughter of Felim. You +have broken the law of the Red Branch when you sent lying messages +through Lavarcam plotting to return. The king commands that the daughter +of Felim be given up, and-- + +AINLIE--Are we to listen to this? + +ARDAN--My spear will fly of itself if he does not depart. + +NAISI--Nay, brother, he is only a slave. (To the MESSENGER.) Return to +Concobar, and tell him that tomorrow the Red Branch will choose another +chief. There, why dost thou wait? Begone! (To DEIRDRE.) Oh, wise woman, +truly did you see the rottenness in this king! + +DEIRDRE--Why did you not take my counsel, Naisi? For now it is too +late--too late. + +NAISI--There is naught to fear. One of us could hold this dun against +a thousand of Concobar's household slaves. When Fergus comes tomorrow +there will be another king in Emain Macha. + +ILANN--It is true, Deirdre. One of us is enough for Concobar's household +slaves. I will keep watch at the door while you play at peace with +Naisi. + +[ILANN lifts the curtain of the door and goes outside. The Play at chess +begins again. AINLE and ARDAN look on.] + +AINLE--Naisi, you play wildly. See, your queen will be taken. [A +disturbance without and the clash of arms.] + +ILANN--(Without) Keep back! Do you dare? + +NAISI--Ah! the slaves come on, driven by the false Ardrie! When the game +is finished we will sweep them back and slay them in the Royal House +before Concobar's eyes. Play! You forget to move, Deirdre. [The clash of +arms is renewed.] + +ILANN--(without) Oh! I am wounded. Ainle! Ardan! To the door! + +[AINLE and ARDAN rush out. The clash of arms renewed.] + +DEIRDRE--Naisi, I cannot. I cannot. The end of all has come. Oh, Naisi! +[She flings her arms across the table, scattering the pieces over the +board.] + +NAISI--If the end has come we should meet it with calm. It is not with +sighing and tears the Clan Usna should depart. You have not played this +game as it ought to be played. + +DEIRDRE--Your pride is molded and set like a pillar of bronze. O +warrior, I was no mate for you. I am only a woman, who has given her +life into your hands, and you chide me for my love. + +NAISI--(caressing her head with his hands) Poor timid dove, I had +forgotten thy weakness. I did not mean to wound thee, my heart. Oh, +many will shed hotter tears than these for thy sorrow! They will perish +swiftly who made Naisi's queen to weep! [He snatches up a spear and +rushes out. There are cries, and then a silence.] + +LAVARCAM--(entering hurriedly) Bear Deirdre swiftly away through the +night. (She stops and looks around.) Where are the sons of Usna? Oh! I +stepped over many dead bodies at the door. Surely the Lights of Valor +were not so soon overcome! Oh, my darling! come away with me from this +terrible house. + +DEIRDRE--(Slowly) What did you say of the Lights of Valor? +That--they--were dead? + +[NAISI, AINLE, and ARDAN re-enter. DEIRDRE clings to NAISI.] + +NAISI--My gentle one, do not look so pale nor wound me with those +terror-stricken eyes. Those base slaves are all fled. Truly Concobar is +a mighty king without the Red Branch! + +LAVARCAM--Oh, do not linger here. Bear Deirdre away while there is time. +You can escape through the city in the silence of the night. The king +has called for his Druids; soon the magic of Cathvah will enfold you, +and your strength will be all withered away. + +NAISI--I will not leave Emain Macha until the head of this false king is +apart from his shoulders. A spear can pass as swiftly through his Druid +as through one of his slaves. Oh, Cathvah, the old mumbler of spells and +of false prophecies, who caused Deirdre to be taken from her mother's +breast! Truly, I owe a deep debt to Cathvah, and I Will repay it. + +LAVARCAM--If you love Deirdre, do not let pride and wrath stay your +flight. You have but an instant to fly. You can return with Fergus and +a host of warriors in the dawn. You do not know the power of Cathvah. +Surely, if you do not depart, Deirdre will fall into the king's hands, +and it were better she had died in her mother's womb. + +DEIRDRE--Naisi, let us leave this house of death. [The sound of +footsteps without] + +LAVARCAM--It is too late! + +[AINLE and ARDAN start to the door, but are stayed at the sound of +CATHVAH'S voice. DEIRDRE clings to NAISI. CATHVAH (chanting without)] + +Let the Faed Fia fall; Mananaun Mac Lir. Take back the day Amid days +unremembered. Over the warring mind Let thy Faed Fia fall, Mananaun Mac +Lir! + +NAISI--Why dost thou weep, Deirdre, and cling to me so? The sea is calm. +Tomorrow we will rest safely at Emain Macha with the great Ardrie, who +has forgiven all. + +LAVARCAM--The darkness is upon his mind. Oh, poor Deirdre! + +CATHVAH (without)-- + + Let thy waves rise, + Mananaun Mac Lir. + Let the earth fail + Beneath their feet, + Let thy Waves flow over them, + Mananaun: Lord of ocean! + +NAISI--Our galley is sinking--and no land in sight! I did not think the +end would come so soon. O pale love, take courage. Is death so bitter to +thee? We shall go down in each other's arms; our hearts shall beat out +their love together, and the last of life we shall know will be our +kisses on each other's lips. (AINLE and ARDAN stagger outside. There +is a sound of blows and a low cry.) Ainle and Ardan have sunk in the +waters! We are alone. Still weeping! My bird, my bird, soon we shall fly +together to the bright kingdom in the West, to Hy Brazil, amid the opal +seas. + +DEIRDRE--Naisi, Naisi, shake off the magic dream. It is here in Emain +Macha we are. There are no waters. The spell of the Druid and his +terrible chant have made a mist about your eyes. + +NAISI--Her mind is wandering. She is distraught with terror of the king. +There, rest your head on my heart. Hush! hush! The waters are flowing +upward swiftly. Soon, when all is over, you will laugh at your terror. +The great Ardrie will sorrow over our death. + +DEIRDRE--I cannot speak. Lavarcam, can you not break the enchantment? + +LAVARCAM--My limbs are fixed here by the spell. + +NAISI--There was music a while ago. The swans of Lir, with their slow, +sweet faery singing. There never was a sadder tale than theirs. They +must roam for ages, driven on the sea of Moyle, while we shall go hand +in hand through the country of immortal youth. And there is Mananaun, +the dark blue king, who looks at us with a smile of welcome. Ildathach +is lit up with its shining mountains, and the golden phantoms are +leaping there in the dawn! There is a path made for us! Come, Deirdre, +the god has made for us an island on the sea. (NAISI goes through +the door, and falls back, smitten by a spear-thrust.) The Druid +Cathvah!--The king!--O Deirdre! [He dies. DEIRDRE bends over the body, +taking the hands in hers.] + +LAVARCAM--O gentle heart, thy wounds will be more bitter than his. Speak +but a word. That silent sorrow will kill thee and me. My darling, it was +fate, and I was not to blame. Come, it will comfort thee to weep beside +my breast. Leave the dead for vengeance, for heavy is the vengeance that +shall fall on this ruthless king. + +DEIRDRE--I do not fear Concobar any more. My spirit is sinking away from +the world, I could not stay after Naisi. After the Lights of Valor +had vanished, how could I remain? The earth has grown dim and old, +fostermother. The gods have gone far away, and the lights from the +mountains and the Lions of the Flaming Heart are still, O fostermother, +when they heap the cairn over him, let me be beside him in the narrow +grave. I will still be with the noble one. + +[DEIRDRE lays her head on NAISI's body. CONCOBAR enters, standing in the +doorway. LAVARCAM takes DEIRDRE'S hand and drops it.] + +LAVARCAM--Did you come to torture her with your presence? Was not the +death of Naisi cruelty enough? But now she is past your power to wound. + +CONCOBAR--The death of Naisi was only the fulfilling of the law. Ulla +could not hold together if its ancient laws were set aside. + +LAVARCAM--Do you think to bind men together when you have broken +their hearts? O fool, who would conquer all Eri! I see the Red Branch +scattered and Eri rent asunder, and thy memory a curse after many +thousand years. The gods have overthrown thy dominion, proud king, with +the last sigh from this dead child; and out of the pity for her they +will build up an eternal kingdom in the spirit of man. [An uproar +without and the clash of arms.] + +VOICES--Fergus! Fergus! Fergus! + +LAVARCAM--The avenger has come! So perishes the Red Branch! [She hurries +out wildly.] + +CONCOBAR--(Slowly, after a pause) I have two divided kingdoms, and one +is in my own heart. Thus do I pay homage to thee, O Queen, who will +rule, being dead. [He bends over the body of DEIRDRE and kisses her +hand.] + +FERGUS--(without) Where is the traitor Ardrie? + +[CONCOBAR starts up, lifting his spear. FERGUS appears at the doorway, +and the scene closes.] + +1901 + + + + + +NOTE TO THOUGHTS FOR A CONVENTION + + +I was asked to put into shape for publication ideas and suggestions for +an Irish settlement which had been discussed among a group whose members +represented ah extremes in Irish opinion. The compromise arrived at +was embodied in documents written by members of the group privately +circulated, criticized and again amended. I make special acknowledgments +to Colonel Maurice Moore, Mr. James G. Douglas, Mr. Edward E. Lysaght, +Mr. Joseph Johnston, F.T.C.D., Mr. Alec Wilson and Mr. Diarmuid Coffey. +For the tone, method of presentation, and general arguments used, I +alone am responsible. And if any are offended at what I have said, I am +to be blamed, not my fellow-workers. + +The author desires to make acknowledgment to The Times for permission to +include an article on "The Spiritual Conflict." + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Imaginations and Reveries, by +(A.E.) George William Russell + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IMAGINATIONS AND REVERIES *** + +***** This file should be named 8105.txt or 8105.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/0/8105/ + +Produced by Jake Jaqua + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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