maurice maeterlinck - forgottenbooks.com · the inner beauty than their very ﬁrst thought would...

T"E INNE" BEAUTY

N"T"ING in the Whole world is sofor beauty as the soul, nor is there anything to which beauty clings so readily.

There is nothing in the world capable ofsuch spontaneous uplifting, of such speedyennoblement"nothing that offers morescrupulous obedience to the pure and noblecommands it receives. There is nothingin the world that yields deeper submissionto the empire of a thought that is loftier

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than other thoughts. And on this earthof ours rthere are but few souls that canWithstand the dominion of the soul thathas suffered itself to become beautifulg

'

In all truth might it be said that beautyis the unique aliment of our soul, for inall places does it search for beauty

,and it

perishes not of hunger even in the mostdegraded of lives. i For indeed nothingof beauty can pass by and be altogetherunperceived. Perhaps does it never passby save only in our unconsciousness, butits action is no less puissant in gloom ofnight than by light of day"the j oy itprocures may be less tangible, but otherdifference there is none Look at themost ordinary of men, at a time whena little beauty has contrived to steal intotheir darkness. They have come together,it matters not where, and for no special

THE INNER BEAUTY

than their very first thought would seemto be to close the great doors of life."et has each one of them,

when alone,more than once lived in accord with hissoul. He has loved perhaps, of a suretyhe has suffered. Inevitably must he, too,have heard the sounds that come fromthe distant country of Splendour andTerror ""and many an evening has hebowed down in silence before laws thatare deeper than the sea. And yet whenthese men are assembled it is with thebasest of things that they love to debauchthemselves. They have a strange indescribable fear of beauty, and as theirnumber increases so does this fear becomegreater

,resembling indeed their dread of

silence or of a verity that is too pure.And so true is this that, were one of themto have done something heroic in thecourse of the day, he would ascribe

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wretched motives to his conduct, therebyendeavouring to find excuses for it, andthese motives would lie readi to his handin that lower region where he and hisfellows were assembled. And yet listena proud and lofty word has been spoken,a Word that has in a measure undammedthe springs of life. For one instant hasa soul dared to reveal itself

,even such as

it is in love and sorrow,such as it is in

face of death and in,t

the solitude thatdwells around the stars of Disquietprevails, on some faces there is astonishment, others smile. But have you neverfelt at moments such as those howunanimous is the fervour wherewith everysoul admires, and how unspeakably eventhe very feeblest

,from the remotest depths

of its dungeon,approves the word it has

recognised as akin to itself" For theyhave all suddenly sprung to life again in

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the primitive and normal atmosphere thatis their own "and could you but hearkenwith angels" ears, I doubt not but youwould hear mightiest applause in that"kingdom of ama"ing radiance wherein

"

the"lsouls do dwell. Do you not think thateven the most timid of them would takecourage unto themselves were but similarwords to be spoken every evening" Doyou not think that men would livepurerlives" And yet though the word comenot again, still will something momentoushave happened

,that must leave still more

momentous trace behind. Every eveningwill its sisters recognise the soul thatpronounced the word, and henceforth, bethe conversation never so trivial

,its mere

presence will,I know not how

,add thereto

something of majesty. Whatever elsebetide, there has been a change that wecannot determine. No longer will such

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absolute power be vested in the baserside of things, and henceforth, even themost terror-stricken of souls will knowthat there is somewhere a place ofrefugeCertain it is that the natural andprimitive relationship of soul to soul isa relationship of beauty. For beautyis the only language of our soul"noneother is known to it. It has no otherlife

,it can produce nothing else, in

nothing else can it take interest. Andtherefore it is that the most oppressed,nay

,the most degraded of souls —if it

may truly be said that a soul can bedegraded— immediately hail with acclamation every thought, every word or deed,that is great and beautiful. Beauty isthe only element . wherewith the soul isorganically connected, and it has no otherstandard of judgment. This is brought

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THE INNER BEAUTY

home to us at every moment of our life,and is no less evident to the man bywhom beauty may more than once havebeen denied than to him who is everseeking it in his heart. Should a daycome when you stand in profoundest needof another"s sympathy

,would you go to

him who was wont to greet the passage ofbeauty with a sneering smile"Wouldyou go to him whose shake of the headhad sullied a generous action or a mereimpulse that was pure" Even thoughperhaps you had been of those who commended him, you would none the less,when it was truth that knocked at yourdoor, turn to the man who had knownhow to prostrate himself and lovec" Inits very depths had your soul pas sed itsjudgment, and it is the silent and unerring judgment that will rise to the surface,after thirty years perhaps, and send you

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towards a sister who shall be more trulyyou than you are yourself, for that shehas been nearer to beauty.There needs but so little to encouragebeauty in our soul "so little to awakenthe slumbering angels or perhaps is thereno need of awakening-it is enough thatwe lull them not to sleep. It requiresmore effort to fall

,perhaps, than to rise.

Can we,without putting constraint upon

ourselves, confine our thoughts to everyday things at times when the sea stretchesbefore us, and we are face to face withthe night" And what soul is there butknows that it is ever confronting the sea

,

ever in presence of an eternal night E"

Did we but dread beauty less it wouldcome about that nought else in life wouldbe visible"for in rea lity it is beauty thatunderlies everything, it is beauty alonethat exists. There is no soul but is

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THE INNER BEAUTY

conscious of this, none that is not inreadiness"but

"where are those that hidenot their beauty" And yet must one ofthem ‘begin .

" Why not dare to be theone to begin.

" The others are all watching eagerly around us like little childrenin front of a marvellous palace. Theypress upon the threshold, whispering toeach other and peering through everycrevice, but there is not one who daresput his shoulder to the door. Theyall waiting for some grown-up person tocome and fling it open. But hardlydoes such a one pass by.

And yet what is needed to become thegrown-up person for whom they lie inwait" So little"The soul is not exacting. A thought that is almost beautifula thought that you speak not, but that"you cherish within you at this mome

w

nt:will irradiate you as though you were

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THE INNER BEAUTY

a transparent vase. They will see it andtheir greeting to you will be very differentthan had you been meditating how bestto deceive your brother. We are surprisedwhen certain men tell us that they havenever come across real ugliness

,that they

cannot conceive that a soul can be base."et need there be no cause for surprise.These men had begun.

" They themselveshad been the first to be beautiful, andhad therefore attracted all the beauty thatpassed by, as a lighthouse attracts thevessels from the four corners of thehori"on. Some there are who complainof women , for instance, never dreamingthat, the first time a man meets a woman,a single word or thought that denies thebeautiful or profound will be enough topoison for ever his existence in her soul.For my part

,

"said a sage to me one day,I have never come across a single woman

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THE INNER BEAUTY

contrary, we should endeavour to move inadvance of ourselves. fIf at this momentyou think or say something that is toobeautiful to be true in you— if you havebut endeavoured to think or say it to-day

,

on the morrow it will be true. We musttry to be more beautiful than ourselves"we shall never distance our soul. Wecan never err when it is question of silentor hidden beauty. Besides

,so long

the spring within us be limpid, it mattersbut little whether error there be or not.But do any of us ever dream of makingthe slightest unseen effort" And yet inthe domain where we are everything iseffective, for that everything is waiting.

All the doors are unlocked,we have but

to push them open, and the palace is fullof manacled queens. A single word willvery often suffice to clear the mountainof refuse. Why not have the courage to

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THE INNER BEAUTY

meet a base question with a noble answer"Do you imagine it would pass quite nunoticed or merely arouse surprise" Doyou not think it would be more akin tothe discourse that would naturally beheld between two souls" We knownot where it may give encouragement,where freedom . Even he who rej ectsyour word will

,in spite of himself, have

taken a step towards the beauty that iswithin him.

1 Nothing of beauty dieswithout having purified something, noraught of beauty be lost. Let us not

be afraid of sowing it along the road.It may remain there for weeks or years,but like the diamond it cannot dissolve,and finally there will pass by some onewhom its glitter will attract"he willpick it up and go his way, rej oicing.

Then why keep back a lofty, beautifulword

,for that you doubt whether others

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THE INNER BEAUTY

will understand"An instant of highergoodness was impending over you"whyhinder its coming , even though you believenotfiat those about you will profit there

by What if you are among men of thevalley, 1s that sufficient reason for checking the instinctive movement of yoursoul towards the mountain peaks" Doesdarkness rob deep feeling of its power"Have the blind nought but their eyeswherewith to distinguish those who lovethem from those who love them not"Can the beauty not exist that is notunderstood, and is there not in everyman something that does understandin regions far beyond what he seems tounderstand, far beyond, too, what hebelieves he understands" ‘Even to thevery wretchedest of all

,

" said to me oneday the loftiest minded creature it hasever been my happiness to know, even

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THE INNER BEAUTY

to the very wretchedest of all I neverhave the courage to say anything in replythat is ugly or mediocre." I have for along time followed that man"s life

,and

have seen the inexplicable power he exercised over the most obscure, the mostunapproachable, the blindest, even themost rebellious of souls./For no tonguecan tell the power of a soul that strives tolive in an atmosphere of beauty, and isactivelybeautiful in itself. And indeedis it not the quality of this activity thatrenders life either miserable or divine"If we could but probe to the root ofthings it might well be discovered that itis bythe strength of some souls that arebeautiful that others are sustained in life.Is it not the idea we each form of certainchosen ones that constitutes the only living, effective morality" But in thisidea how much is there of the soul that is

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THE INNER BEAUTY

chosen, how much of him who chooses"Do not these things blend very mysteriously, and does not this ideal morality lieinfinitely deeper than the morality of themost beautiful books" A far-reachinginfluence exists therein whose limits it isindeed difficult to define

,and a founta in

of strength whereat we all of us drinkmany times a day. Would not any weakness in one of those creatures whom youthought perfect and loved in the regionof beauty

,at once lessen your confidence

in the universal greatness of things, andwould your admiration for them suffer"And again, I doubt whether anything

in the world can beautify a soul morespontaneously, more naturally, than theknowledge that somewhere in its neighbourhood there exists a pure and noble being whom it can unreservedly love. Whenthe soul has veritably drawn near to such

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THE INNER BEAUTY

a being, beauty is no longer a lovely,lifeless thing, that one exhibits to thestranger, for it suddenly takes unto itselfan imperious existence

,and its activity

becomes so natural as to be henceforthirresistible. Wherefore you will do wellto think it over, for none are alone, andthose who are good must watch.

Plotinus, in the eighth book of the fifth‘Ennead,

" after speaking of the beautythat is intelligible divine— con

cludes thus : As regard ourselves,we

are beautiful when we belong to ourselves,and ugly when we lower ourselves to ourinferior nature. Also are we beautifulwhen we know ourselves

,and ugly when

we have no such knowledge." Bear it inmind, however, that here we are on themountains

,where not to know oneself

means far more than mere ignorance ofwhat takes place within us at moments

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INNER BEAUTY

of j ealousy or love, fear or envy, happinessor unhappiness. Here not to know oneselfmeans to be unconscious of all the divinethat throbs in man . As we wander fromthe gods within us so does ugliness enwrapus"as we discover them, so do we becomemore beautiful. But it is only by revealing the divine that is in us that we maydiscover the divine in others. Needs mustone god beckon to another, and no signalis so imperceptible but they will every oneof them respond. It cannot be said toooften that, be the crevice never so small,it will yet suffice for all the waters ofheaven to pour into our soul

"Every cup

is stretched out to the unknown spring,and we are in a region where none thinkof aught but beauty. If we could askof an angel what it is that our souls do

answer, after having looked for many years18

THE INNER BEAUTY

timidity into the soul that it departswithout saying a word, without even oncehaving been able to deck itself with thehumblest j ewels of its humble crown .

And yet,in spite ofall,does it watch over

everything from out its invisible heaven.

It warns and loves, it admires, attracts,repels. At every fresh event does it riseto the surface, where it lingers till it bethrust down again, being looked upon asweari some and insane. It wanders to andfro, like Cassandra at the gates of theAtrides. It is ever giving utterance towords of shadowy truth

,but there are

none to listen. When we raise our eyesit yearns for a ray of sun or star, that itmay weave into a thought

,or, haply, an

impulse, which shall be unconscious andvery pure. And if our eyes bring itnothing, still will it know how to turn its"

pitiful disillusion into something ineffable,20

THE INNER BEAUTY

that it will conceal even till its death.

When we love, how eagerly does it drinkin the light from behind the closed door— keen with expectation, it yet wastes nota minute, and the light that steals throughthe apertures becomes beauty and truth tothe soul. But if the door opens not (andhow many lives are there wherein it doesopen""it will go back into its prison,and its regret will perhaps be a loftierverity that shall never be seen

,for we are

now in the region of transformationswhereof none may speak and thoughnothing born this side of the door can be

I said just now that the soul ""into beauty the little things we gave toit. It would even seem, the more wethink of it, that the soul has no otherreason for existence, and that all its

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THE INNER BEAUTY

activity is consumed in amassing, atthe depths of us, a treasure of indescribable beauty. "ight not everything naturally turn into beauty, werewe not unceasingly interrupting thearduous labours of our soul" Does notevil itself become precious so soon as ithas gathered therefrom the deep lyingdiamond of repentance" The acts ofinjustice whereof you have been guilty,the tears you have caused to flow, willnot these end too by becoming so muchradiance and love in your soul" Haveyou ever cast your eyes into this kingdomof purifying flame that is within you"Perhaps a great wrong may have beendone you tod ay, the act itself beingmean and disheartening, the mode ofaction of the basest, and ugliness wrappedyou round as your tears fell. But letsome years elapse, then give one look into

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THE INNER BEAUTY

your soul, and tell me whether, beneaththe recollection of that act, you see notsomething that is

'

already purer thanthought"an indescribable, unnameableforce that has nought in common withthe forces of this world"a mysterious inexhaustible spring ofthe other life,whereatyou may drink for the rest of your days.

And yet will you have rendered no assistance to the untiring queen" otherthoughts will have filled your mind, andit will be without your knowledge thatthe act will have been purified in thesilence of your being,and will have flowninto the precious waters that lie in the

true or beautiful thoughts, has an everunruflled surface, a nd remains for alltime out of reach of the breath of life.Emerson tells us that there is not an act

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THE INNER BEAUTY

or event in our life but, sooner or later,casts of its outer shell, and bewilders usby its sudden flights from the very depthsof us, oh high into the empyrean . And

this is true to a far greater extent thanEmerson had foreseen, for the further weadvance in these regions, the diviner arethe spheres we discover.We can form no adequate conceptionof what this silent activity of the souls

mean.

Perhaps you have spoken a pure word toone of your fellows by whom it has notbeen understood. "ou look upon it aslost and dismiss it from your mind. Butone day, peradventure, the word comesup again extraordinarily transformed, andrevealing the unexpected fruit it hasborne in the darkness"then silence oncemore falls over all. But it matters not"we have learned that nothing can be lost

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THE INNER BEAUTY

in the soul, and that even to the verypettiest there come moments of splendour.It is unmistakably borne home to us thateven the unhappiest and the most destitute of men have at the depths of theirbeing and in spite of themselves a treasureof beauty that they cannot despoil .

They have but to acquire the habit ofdipping into this -"treasure. It sufficesnot that beauty should keep solitaryfestival in life" it has to become afestival of every day. There needs nogreat effort to be admitted into the ranksof those whose eyes no longer beholdearth in flower and sky in glory ininfinitesimal fragments, but indeed ‘ in

sublime masses," and I speak here of

flowers and sky that are purer and morelasting than those that we behold.

Thousands of channels there are throughwhich the beauty of our soul may sail

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THE INNER BEAUTY

even unto our thoughts. Above all isthere the wonderful, central channel oflove.Is it not in love that are found thepurest elements of beauty that we canoffer to the soul" Some there are whodo thus in beauty love each other.And to love thus means that, little bylittle, the sense of ugliness is lost"thatone"s eyes are closed to all the littlenessesof life, to all but the freshness and vir

ginity of the very humblest of souls.

Loving thus, we have no longer eventhe need to forgive. Loving thus, weno longer have anything to conceal,

for that the ever-present soul transformsall things into beauty. It is to beholdevil in so far only as it purifies indulgence,

sinner with his sin. Loving thus do we

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turns into love is undistinguishable fromthe love that turns into beauty. Itmeans to be able no longer to tell wherethe ray of a star leaves off and the kiss ofan ordinary thought begins. It means tohave come so near to God that the angelspossess us. Loving thus, the same soulwill have been so beautified by us all thatit will become

,little by little, the

unique angel "mentioned by Swedenborg.

It means that each daywill reveal to usa new beauty in that mysterious angel,and that we shall walk together in agoodness that shall ever become more andmore living

,loftier and loftier. For

there exists also a lifeless beauty, madeup of the past alone"but the veritablelove renders the past useless, and itsapproach creates a boundless future ofgoodness, without disaster and without

THE INNER BEAUTY

soul, and to become as beautiful as thesoul thus freed. If, in the emotion thatthis spectacle cannot fail to awaken inthee,

"says the great Plotinus, when dealing with kindred matters— and of all theintellects known to me that of Plotinusdraws the nearest to the divine If inthe emotion that this spectacle cannotfail to awaken in thee, thou proclaimestnot that it is beautiful"and if, plungingthine eyes into thyself, thou dost notthen feel the charm of beauty, it is invain that, thy disposition being such,thou shouldst seek the intelligible beauty "for thou wouldst seek it only with thatwhich is ugly and impure. Thereforeit is that the discourse we hold here isnot addressed to all men. But if thouhast recognised beauty within thyself,that thou rise to the recollection of theintelligible beauty."

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SILENCE

SI"EN"E and cries e.‘Altars might still be raised to them

(were this an altar-building time"foruniversa l worship. Silence is the element in which great things fashionthemselves together, that at lengththey may emerge, full-formed andmajestic, into the daylight of Life, whichthey are henceforth to rule. NotWilliam the Silent only, but all the

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SILENCE

considerable men I have known, a nd themost undiplomatic and unstrategic ofthese

,forbore to babble of what they

were creating and proj ecting. Nay, inthy own mean perplexities, do thou thyself but hold thy tongue for one dayon the morrow how much clearer are thypurposes and duties "what wreck andrubbish have these mute workmen withinthee swept away, when intrus ive noiseswere shut out" Speech is too often not,as the Frenchman defined it, the art ofconcealing Thought, but of quite stiflingand suspending Thought, so that there isnone to conceal. Speech, too, is great, butnot the greatest. As the swift inscriptionsays : Sprechen ist Silbern, Schweigenist goldern (Speech is silver, Silence isgolden"or, as I might rather express it,Speech is of Time, Silence is of Eternity.

Bees will not work except in darkness"31

SILENCE

Thought will not work except in Silence"neither will"irtue work except in secrecy."

It is idle to think that, by means ofwords, any real communication can everpass from one man to another. The lipsor the tongue may represent the soul,even as a cipher or a number may re

present a picture of "emling"but fromthe moment that we have something tosay to each other

,we are compelled to

hold our peace : and if at such times wedo not listen to the urgent commands ofsilence, invisible though they be, we shallhave suffered an eternal loss that all thetreasures of human wisdom cannot makegood" for we shall have let slip theopportunity of listening to another soul,and of giving existence

,be it only for an

instant, to our own"and many lives thereare in which such opportunities do notpresent themselves twice.

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SILENCE

It' is only when life is sluggish within

us that we speak only at moments whenreality lies far away

,and we do not wish

to be conscious of our brethren. And nosooner do we speak than something warnsus that the divine gates are closing.

Thus it comes about that we hug silenceto us

,and are very misers of it and even

the most reckless will not squander it onthe first comer. There is an instinct of thesuperhuman truths within us which warnsus that it is dangerous to be silent withone whom we do not wish to know, or donot love : for words may pass betweenmen, but let silence have had its instantof activity

,and it will never efface itself

and indeed the true life, the only lifethat leaves a trace behind, is made upof silence alone. Bethink it well, in thatsilence to which you must again haveresource, so that it may explain itself, by

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SILENCE

itself"and if it be granted to you todescend for one moment into your soul,into the depths wherethe angels dwell, itis not the words spoken by the creatureyou loved so dearly that you will recall,or the gestures that he made, but it is,above all, the silences that you have livedtogether that will come back to you : forit is the quality of those silences thatalone revealed the quality of your loveand your souls.So far I have considered active silenceonly

,for there is a passive silence

,which

is the shadow of sleep, of death or nonexistence. It is the silence of lethargy,and is even less to be dreaded thanspeech, so long as it slumbers but bewarelest a sudden incident awake it, for thenwould its brother, the great active silence,at once rear himself upon his throne. Beon your guard. Two souls would draw

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SILENCE

their one thought is to drive away theinvisible enemy" and of how manyordinary friendships may it not be saidthat their only foundation is the commonhatred of silence"And if, all efforts notwithstanding, it contrives to steal amonga number of men, disquiet will fall uponthem

,and their restless eyes will wander

in the mysterious direction of thingsunseen : and each man will hurriedly gohis way, flying before the intruder : andhenceforth they will avoid each other,dreading lest a similar disaster shouldagain befall them, and suspicious as towhether there be not one among themwho would treacherously throw open thegate to the enemy.

I

/ In the lives of most of us, it will nothappen more than twice or thrice thatsilence is really understood and freelyadmitted. It is only on the most solemn

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SILENCE

occasions that the inscrutable guest'

iswelcomed"but, when such come about,there are few who do not make the welcome worthy, for even in the lives of themost wretched there are moments whenthey know how to act, even as thoughthey knew already that which is knownto the gods. "emember the day onwhich, without fear in your heart, you metyour first silence. The dread hour hadsounded"silence went before your soul."ou saw it rising from the unspeakableabysses of life, from the depths of theinner sea of horror or beauty

,and you

did not fly It was at a homecoming,

on the threshold of a departure, in themidst of a great j oy, at the pillow ofa death-bed, on the approach of a diremisfortune. Bethink you of those moments when all the secret jewels shoneforth on you, and the slumbering truths

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SILENCE

sprung to life, and tell me whether silence,then

,was not good and necessary,

whether the caresses of the enemy youhad so persistently shunned were nottruly divine" The kisses of the silenceof misfortune— and it is above all attimes of misfortune that silence caressesus— can never be forgotten"and therefore it is that those to whom they havecome more often than to others areworthier than those others. They aloneknow, perhaps, how voiceless and un

fathomable are the waters on which thefra gile shell of daily life reposes : theyhave approached nearer to God, and thesteps they have taken towards the lightare steps that can never be lost

,for the

soul may not rise, perhaps, but it cannever sink. Silence, the greatEmpire of Silence,

" says Carlyle againhe who understood so well the

"empire of38

SILENCE

the life which holds us higher thanthe stars

,deeper than the "ingdom of

Death" Silence, and the great silentmen" Scattered here and there,each in his department" silently thinking

,silently working "whom no morning

newspaper makes mention of They arethe salt of the earth. A country thathas none or few of these is in a bad way.

Like a forest which had no roots"whichhad all turned to leaves and boughs"which must soon wither and be no forest."

But the real silence, which is greaterstill and more diflicult of approach thanthe material silence of which Carlylespeaks— the real silence is not one ofthose gods that can desert mankind.

It surrounds us on every side" it isthe source of the undercurrents of ourlife"and let one of us but knock, withtrembling fingers

,at the door of the abyss,39

SILENCE

it is always by the same attentive silencethat this door will be opened.

It is a thing that knows no limit, andbefore it all men are equal" and thesilence of king or slave, in presence ofdeath, or grief, or love, reveals thesame features

, hides beneath its im

penetrable mantle the self-same treasure.For this is the essential silence of oursoul, our most inviolable sanctuary, andits secret can never be lost "and, were thefirst born of men to meet the last imbabitant of the earth, a kindred impulsewould sway them, and they would bevoiceless in their caresses, in their terrorand their tears"a kindred impulse wouldsway them, and all that could be saidwithout falsehood would call for no spokenword : and, the centuries notwithstanding,there would come to them, at the samemoment, as though one cradle had held

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SILENCE

them both, comprehension of that whichthe tongue shall not learn to tell beforethe world ceases.No sooner are the lips still than thesoul awakes

,and sets forth on its labours

for silence is an element that is full ofsurprise

,danger and happiness

,and in

these the soul possesses itself in freedom.

If it be indeed your desire to give yourself over to another, be silent "and if youfear being silent with him— unless thisfear be the proud uncertainty, or hunger,of the love that yearns for prodigies— flyfrom him

,for your soul knows well how

far it may go. There are men in whosepresence the greatest of heroes would notdare to be silent and even the soul thathas nothing to conceal trembles lestanother should discover its secret. Somethere are that have no silence, and thatkill the silence around them, and these

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SILENCE

are the only creatures that pass throughlife unperceived. To them it is not givento cross the "one of revelation, the great"one of the firm and faithful light.We cannot conceive what sort of man

is he who has never been silent. It is tous as though his soul were featureless.‘We do not know each other yet

,

"wroteto me one whom I hold dear above allothers, we have not yet dared to besilent together." And it was true :already did we love each other so deeplythat we shrank from the superhumanordeal. And each time that silence fellupon us —the angel of the supreme truth

,

the messenger that brings to the heartthe tidings of the unknown— each timedid we feel that our souls were cravingmercy on their knees

,were begging for a

few hours more of innocent falsehood, afew hours of ignorance, a few hours of

SILENCE

darkness"while it may be that the soulof a convict shall go forth and communein divine silence with the soul of a virgin .

The result can never be‘

foretold " all

this comes to pass in a heaven that neverwarns" and therefore it is that thetenderest of lovers will often defer to thelast hour of all the solemn entry of thegreat revealer‘ of the depths of ourbeing.

For they too are well aware— the lovethat is truly love brings the most frivolousback to life"s centre— they too are wellaware that all that had gone before was butas children playing outside the gates, andthat it is now that the walls are fallingand existence lying bare. Their silencewill be even as are the gods within them "and if in this first silence, there be notharmony, there can be no love in theirsouls, for the silence will never change.

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SILENCE

It may rise'

or it may fall between twosouls

,but its nature can never alter"and

even until the death of the lovers will itreta in the form

,the attitude and the

power that were its own when, for thefirst time, it came into the room.

5 As we advance through life,it is more

and more brought home to us thatnothing takes place that is not in accordwith some curious, preconceived design :and of this we never breathe a word, wescarcely dare to let our minds dwell uponit, but of its existence, somewhere aboveour heads, we are absolutely convinced.

The most fatuous of men smiles,at the

first encounters, as though he were theaccomplice of the destiny of his brethren.

And in this domain,even those who can

speak the most profoundly realise— they,

can never express the real, special relation45

SILENCE

ship that exists between two beings.Were I to speak to you at this momentof the gravest things of all— of love,death or destiny— it is not love, deathor destiny that I should touch " and,my efforts notwithstanding, there wouldalways remain between us a truth whichhad not been spoken, which we had noteven thought of speaking"and yet it isthis truth only

,voiceless though it has

been, which will have lived"with us foran instant, and by which we shall h avebeen wholly absorbed. For that truth,was our truth as regards dea th destiny or love, and it was in silence onlythat we could perceive it. And nothingsave only the silence will have had anyimportance. ‘"y sisters,

" says a childin the fairy-story, ‘you have each ofyou a secret thought—

"

J wish to knowit." We, too, have something that people

46

SILENCE

wish to know, but it is hidden far abovethe secret thought— it is our secret silence.But all questions are useless When ourspirit is alarmed, its own agitation becomesa barrier to the second life that lives inthis secret"and, would we know what it isthat lies hidden there, we must cultivatesilence among ourselves, for it is thenonly that for one instant the eternalflowers unfold their petals, the mysteriousflowers whose form and colour are everchanging in harmony with the soul thatis by their side. As gold and silver areweighed in pure water, so does the soultest its weight in silence, and the wordsthat we let fall have no meaning apartfrom the silence that wraps them round.If I tell someone that I love him— as Imay have told a hundred others-mywords will convey nothing to him"butthe silence which will ensue, if I do indeed

47

SILENCE

love him, will make clear in what depthslie the roots of my love, and will in itsturn give birth to a conviction, that shallitself be silent" and in the course of alifetime, this silence and this convictionwill never again be the same.Is it not silence that determines and

fixes the savour of love" Deprived of it,love would lose its eternal essence andperfume. Who has not known thosesilent moments which separated the lipsto reunite the souls" It is these that wemust ever seek. There is no silence moredocile than the silence of love, and it isindeed the only one that we may claimfor ourselves alone. The other greatsilences

,those of death

,grief or destiny,

do not belong to us. They come towardsus at their own hour

,following in the

track of events, and those whom they donot meet need not reproach themselves.

48

SILENCE

But we can all go forth to meet thesilences of love. They lie in wait for us

,

night and day,at our threshold

,and are

no less beautiful than their brothers.And it is thanks to them that those whohave seldom wept may know the life ofthe soul almost as intimately as hose towhom much griefhas come : anit is that such of us as have loved deeplyhave learnt many secrets that are unknownto others : for thousands and thousandsof things quiver in silence on the lips oftrue friendship and love

,that are not

to be found in the silence of otherlips, to which friendship and love

I

INVISIBLE GOODNESS

IT is a thing, said to me one evening thesage I had chanced to meet by theshore, whereon the waves werealmost noiselessly— it is a thing that wescarcely notice, that none seem to takeinto account, and yet do I conceive it tobe one of the forces that safeguard mankind. In a thousand diverse ways do thegods from whom we spring reveal themselves within us, but it may well be that

50

THE INVISIBLE GOODNESS

are we so fearful lest we exhaust theheaven within us"We dare not actupon the whisper of the God who inspiresus. We are afraid of everything thatcannot be explained by word or gesture"and we shut our eyes to all that we do,ourselves notwithstanding, in the empirewhere explanations are vain" Whencecomes the timidity of the divine in man"For truly might it be said that the nearera movement of our soul approaches thedivine, so much the more scrupulouslydo we conceal it from the eyes of ourbrethren . Can it be that man is nothingbut a frightened god""r has the command been laid upon us that the superiorpowers must not be betrayed""pon allthat does not form part of this too visibleworld there rests the tender meekness ofthe little ailing girl, for whom her motherwill not send when strangers come to the

52


house. And therefore it is that this secretgoodness of ours has never yet passedthrough the silent portals of our soul.It lives within us like a prisoner forbiddento approach the barred window of hercell. But indeed

,what matter though it

do not approach" Enough that it bethere. Hide as it may

,let it but raise its

head, move a link of its chain or open itshand, and the prison is illumined, thepressure of radiance from within burstsopen the iron barrier, and then, suddenly,there yawns a gulf between words andbeings, a gulf peopled with agitatedangels : silence falls over all : the eyesturn away for a moment and two soulsembrace tearfully on the threshold.

It is not a thing that comes from thisearth of ours

,and all descriptions can be

of no avail. They who would understandmust have, in themselves too, the same

D 2 53


point of sensibility. If you have never inyour life felt the power of your invisiblegoodness

,go no further" it would be

useless. But are there really any whohave not felt this power, and have theworst of us never been invisibly good" Iknow not : of so many in this world doesthe aim seem to be the discouragement ofthe divine in their soul. And yet thereneeds but one instant of respite for thedivine to spring up again

,and even the

wickedest are not incessantly on theirguard" and hence doubtless has itarisen that so many of the wickedare good, unseen of all, whereas diverssaints and sages are not invisibly

"ore than once have I been thecause of suffering, he went on, even aseach being is the cause of suffering abouthim. I have caused suffering because we

54


are in a world where all is held togetherby invisible threads

,in a world where

none are alone,and where the gentlest

gesture of love or kindliness may so oftenwound the innocence by our sideI have caused suffering, too, becausethere are times when the best andtenderest are impelled to seek I knownot what part of themselves in the griefof others. For, indeed, there are seedsthat only spring up in our soul beneaththe rain of tears shed because of us, andnone the less do these seeds produce goodflowers and salutary fruit. What wouldyou" It is no law of our making, andI know not whether I would dare to lovethe man who had made no one weep.

Frequently, indeed, will the greatest suffering be caused by those whose love is

greatest, for a strange, timid, tendercruelty is most often the anxious sister of

55


love. "n all sides does love search forthe proofs of love, and the first proofswho is not prone to discover them in thetears of the beloved"Even death could not suffice to reassurethe lover who dared to give ear to theunreasoning claims of love"for to theintimate cruelty of love, the instant ofdeath seems too brief"over beyond deaththere is yet room for a sea of doubts

,and

even in those who die together may disquiet still linger as they die. Long, slowlyfalling tears are needed here. Grief islove"s first food, and every love that hasnot been fed on a little pure sufferingmust die like the babe that one hadtried to nourish on the nourishment ofa man. Will the love inspired by thewoman who always brought the smile toyour lips be quite the same as the loveyou feel for her who at times called

56


forth your tears" Alas"needs must loveweep, and often indeed is it at the verymoment when the sobs burst forth thatlove"s chains are forged and tempered forlife.Thus, he continued, I have causedsuffering because I loved, and also haveI caused suffering because I did not love— but how great was the difference inthe two cases" In the one the slowlydropping tears of well-tried love seemedalready to know, at the depths of them,

that they were bedewing all that wasineffable in our united souls"in the otherthe poor tears knew that they were fallingin solitude on a desert. But it is atthose very moments when the soul is allear-or, haply, all soul— that I haverecognised the might of an invisible goodness that could offer tothe wretched tearsof an expiring love the divine illusions

57


of a love on the eve of birth. "as therenever come to you one of those sorrowfulevenings when dejection lay heavy uponyour unsmiling kisses

,and it at length

dawned upon your soul that it had beenmistaken With direst difficulty did yourwords ring forth in the cold air of theseparation that was to be final"you wereabout to part for ever, and your almostlifeless hands were outstretched for thefarewell of a departure that should knowno return

,when suddenly your soul made

an imperceptible movement within itself."n that instant did the soul by the sideof you awake on the summits of its being"something sprang to life in regions loftierfar than the love of jaded lovers and forall that the bodies might shrink asunder,henceforth would the souls never forgetthat for an instant they had beheld eachother high above mountains they had

58


not a gesture of this God may pass unperceived, and that we are at length in theregion of things that do not betray themselves.Certain it is that, from the day of ourbirth to the day of our death

,we never

emerge from this clearly defined region,but wander in God like helpless sleepwalkers, or like the blind who despairinglyseek the very temple in which they doindeed befind themselves. We are therein life, man against man, soul againstsoul, and day and night are spent underarms. We never see each other

,we never

touch each other. We see nothing butbucklers and helmets, we touch nothingbut iron and brass. But let a tinycircumstance, come from the simplenessof the sky, for one instant onlythe weapons to fall

,are there not always

tears beneath the helmet,childlike smiles

60


behind the buckler, and is not another

He thought for a moment, then wenton, more sadly : A woman— as I believeI told you just now— a woman to whomI had caused suffering against my willfor the most careful of us scatter sufferingaround them without their knowledgea woman to whom I had caused sufferingagainst my will, revealed to me oneevening the sovereign power of this invisible good. To be good we must needshave suffered"hilt

-

perhaps it'

is necessary

become better. This was brought home

arrived, alone, at that sad "one of kisseswhen it seems to us that we are visitingthe hovels of the poor, while she, whohad lingered on the road, was still smilingin the palace of the first days. Love, as

61


men understand it, was dying between uslike a child stricken with a disease comeone knows not whence, a disease that hasno pity. We said nothing. It wouldbe impossible for me to recall what mythoughts were at that earnest moment.They were doubtless of no significance.I was probably thinking of the last faceI had seen

,of the quivering gleam of a

lantern at a deserted street corner"and,nevertheless

,everything took place in a

light a thousand times purer, a thousandtimes higher, than had there intervened allthe forces of pity and love which I command in my thoughts and my heart. Weparted

,and not a word was spoken, but at

one and the same moment had we understood our inexpressible thought. Weknow now that another love had spmmg tolife, a love that demands not the words, thelittle attentions and smiles of ordinary

62


love. We have never met again. Perhapscenturies will elapse before we ever domeet again.

"uch is to learn, much to forget,Through worlds I shall traverse not afew

before we shall again find ourselves in thesame movement of the soul as on thatevening : but we can well afford to

And thus, ever since that day, have Igreeted, in all places, even in the verybitterest of moments, the beneficent presence of this marvellous power. He whohas but once clearly seen it

,shall never

again find it possible to turn away fromits face. "ou will often behold it smilingin the last retreat of hatred

,in the depths

of the cruellest tears. And yet does itnot reveal itself to the eyes of the body.

Its nature changes from the moment that63


it manifests itself by means of an exterioract"and we are no longer in the truthaccording to the soul, but in a kind offalsehood as conceived by man . Goodness and love that are self-conscious haveno influence on the soul, for they havedeparted from the kingdoms where theyhave their dwelling" but, do they onlyremain blind, they can soften Destinyitself. I have known more than one manwho performed every act of kindness andmercy without touching a single soul "and I have known others

,who seemed

to live in falsehood and injustice, yetwere no souls driven from them nordid any for an instant even believethat these men were not good. Nay,more, even those who do not knowyou

,who are merely told of your acts

of goodness and deeds of love— if yoube not good according to the invisible

64


goodness, these, even, will feel thatsomething is lacking, and they will neverbe touched in the depths of their being.

"ne might almost behave that thereexists, somewhere, a place where all isweighed in the presence of the spirits

,or

perhaps, out yonder, the other side of thenight, a reservoir of certitudes whitherthe silent herd of souls flock every morning to slake their thirst.Perhaps we do not yet know whatthe word to love " means. There arewithin us lives in which we love unconsciously. To love thus means more thanto have pity, to make inner sacrifices, tobe anxious to help and give happiness "itis a thing that lies a thousand fathomsdeeper, where our softest, swiftest, strongest words cannot reach it. At momentswe might believe it to be a recollection,furtive

,but excessively keen, of the great

E 65


primitive unity. There is in this lovea force that nothing can resist. Whichof us — an he question himself the side ofthe light

,from which our ga"e is habitu

ally averted— which of us but will find inhimself the recollection of certa in strangeworkings of this force"Which of us,when by the side of the most ordinaryperson perhaps, but has suddenly becomec onscious of the advent of something thatnone had summoned"Was it the soul,or perhaps life, that had turned withinitself like a sleeper on the point ofawakening" I know not"nor did youknow, and no one spoke of it"but youdid not separate from each other asthough nothing had happened.

To love thus is to love according tothe soul "and there is no soul that doesnot respond to this love. For the soulof man is a guest that has gone hungry

66


would it not be in accordance with theprimal truth if all men were to feel thatthey were face to face with each other,even as the woman feels with the manshe loves"This invisible and divine goodness

,of

which I only speak here because of itsbeing one of the surest and nearest signsof the unceasing activity of our soul

,this

invisible and divine goodness ennobles,in decisive fashion

,all that it has un

consciously touched. "et him who has agrievance against his fellow, descend intohimself and seek out whether he neverhas been good in the presence of thatfellow. For myself, I have never met anyone by whose side I have felt my invisiblegoodness bestir itself

,without he has

become, at that very instant, better thanmyself. Be good at the depths of you,and you will di scover that those who

68


surround you will be good even to thesame depths. Nothing responds moreinfallibly to the secret cry of goodnessthan the secret cry of goodnessthat is near. While you are activelygood in the invisible

,all those who ap

proach you will unconsciously do thingsthat they could not do by the side of anyother man. Therein lies a force that hasno name "a spiritual rivalry that knowsno resistance It is as though this werethe actual place where is the sensitivespot of our soul" for there are soulsthat seem to have forgotten their existenceand to have renounced everything thatenables the being to rise " but, oncetouched here

,they all draw themselves

erect "and in the divine plains of thesecret goodness

,the most humble of

souls cannot endure defea t.And yet it is possible that nothing is

(9


changing in the life one sees"but is itonly that which matters

,and is our

existence indeed confined to actions wecan take in our hand like stones on thehighroad" If you ask yourself

,as we

are told we should ask every evening,

What of immortal have I done tod ayI Is it always on the material side that we

is it there that you must begin yoursearch" It is possible for you to causeextraordinary tears to flow "it is possiblethat you may fill a heart with unheardof certitudes, and give eternal life untoa soul, and no one shall know of it, norshall you even know yourself. It may bethat nothing is changing"it may be thatwere it put to the test all would crumble,and that this goodness we speak of wouldyield to the smallest fear. It mattersnot. Something divine has happened"

70


and somewhere must our God havesmiled. "ayit not be the supreme aimof life thus to bring to birth the inexplicable within ourselves and do we know howmuch we add to ourselves when we awakesomething of the incomprehensible thatslumbers in every corner" Here youhave awakened love which will not fallasleep again. The soul that your soulhas regarded

,that has wept with you the

holy tears of the solemn joy that nonemay behold, will bear you no resentment,not even in the midst of torture. It willnot even feel the need of forgiving. Soconvinced is it of one knows not what,that nothing can henceforth dim or effacethe smile that it wears within for nothingcan ever separate two souls which

,for an

instant, have been good togetheri.

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