zanoni-第81部分

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than　that　of　the　neophyte　thou　hast　admitted　within　thy　gates。

Even　that　third　state　of　being；　which　the　Indian　sage　（The

Brahmins；　speaking　of　Brahm；　say；　〃To　the　Omniscient　the　three

modes　of　beingsleep；　waking；　and　tranceare　not；〃　distinctly

recognising　trance　as　a　third　and　coequal　condition　of　being。）

rightly　recognises　as　being　between　the　sleep　and　the　waking；　and

describes　imperfectly　by　the　name　of　TRANCE；　is　unknown　to　the

children　of　the　Northern　world；　and　few　but　would　recoil　to

indulge　it；　regarding　its　peopled　calm　as　maya　and　delusion　of

the　mind。　　Instead　of　ripening　and　culturing　that　airy　soil；　from

which　Nature；　duly　known；　can　evoke　fruits　so　rich　and　flowers　so

fair；　they　strive　but　to　exclude　it　from　their　gaze；　they　esteem

that　struggle　of　the　intellect　from　men's　narrow　world　to　the

spirit's　infinite　home；　as　a　disease　which　the　leech　must

extirpate　with　pharmacy　and　drugs；　and　know　not　even　that　it　is

from　this　condition　of　their　being；　in　its　most　imperfect　and

infant　form；　that　poetry；　music；　artall　that　belong　to　an　Idea

of　Beauty　to　which　neither　SLEEPING　nor　WAKING　can　furnish

archetype　and　actual　semblancetake　their　immortal　birth。　　When

we；　O　Mejnour　in　the　far　time；　were　ourselves　the　neophytes　and

aspirants；　we　were　of　a　class　to　which　the　actual　world　was　shut

and　barred。　　Our　forefathers　had　no　object　in　life　but　knowledge。

From　the　cradle　we　were　predestined　and　reared　to　wisdom　as　to　a

priesthood。　　We　commenced　research　where　modern　Conjecture　closes

its　faithless　wings。　　And　with　us；　those　were　common　elements　of

science　which　the　sages　of　to…day　disdain　as　wild　chimeras；　or

despair　of　as　unfathomable　mysteries。　　Even　the　fundamental

principles；　the　large　yet　simple　theories　of　electricity　and

magnetism；　rest　obscure　and　dim　in　the　disputes　of　their　blinded

schools；　yet；　even　in　our　youth；　how　few　ever　attained　to　the

first　circle　of　the　brotherhood；　and；　after　wearily　enjoying　the

sublime　privileges　they　sought；　they　voluntarily　abandoned　the

light　of　the　sun；　and　sunk；　without　effort；　to　the　grave；　like

pilgrims　in　a　trackless　desert；　overawed　by　the　stillness　of

their　solitude；　and　appalled　by　the　absence　of　a　goal。　　Thou；　in

whom　nothing　seems　to　live　BUT　THE　DESIRE　TO　KNOW；　thou；　who；

indifferent　whether　it　leads　to　weal　or　to　woe；　lendest　thyself

to　all　who　would　tread　the　path　of　mysterious　science；　a　human

book；　insensate　to　the　precepts　it　enounces；thou　hast　ever

sought；　and　often　made　additions　to　our　number。　　But　to　these

have　only　been　vouchsafed　partial　secrets；　vanity　and　passion

unfitted　them　for　the　rest；　and　now；　without　other　interest　than

that　of　an　experiment　in　science；　without　love；　and　without　pity；

thou　exposest　this　new　soul　to　the　hazards　of　the　tremendous

ordeal！　　Thou　thinkest　that　a　zeal　so　inquisitive；　a　courage　so

absolute　and　dauntless；　may　suffice　to　conquer；　where　austerer

intellect　and　purer　virtue　have　so　often　failed。　　Thou　thinkest；

too；　that　the　germ　of　art　that　lies　in　the　painter's　mind；　as　it

comprehends　in　itself　the　entire　embryo　of　power　and　beauty；　may

be　expanded　into　the　stately　flower　of　the　Golden　Science。　　It　is

a　new　experiment　to　thee。　　Be　gentle　with　thy　neophyte；　and　if

his　nature　disappoint　thee　in　the　first　stages　of　the　process；

dismiss　him　back　to　the　Real　while　it　is　yet　time　to　enjoy　the

brief　and　outward　life　which　dwells　in　the　senses；　and　closes

with　the　tomb。　　And　as　I　thus　admonish　thee；　O　Mejnour；　wilt　thou

smile　at　my　inconsistent　hopes？　　I；　who　have　so　invariably

refused　to　initiate　others　into　our　mysteries；I　begin　at　last

to　comprehend　why　the　great　law；　which　binds　man　to　his　kind；

even　when　seeking　most　to　set　himself　aloof　from　their　condition；

has　made　thy　cold　and　bloodless　science　the　link　between　thyself

and　thy　race；　why；　THOU　has　sought　converts　and　pupils；　why；　in

seeing　life　after　life　voluntarily　dropping　from　our　starry

order；　thou　still　aspirest　to　renew　the　vanished；　and　repair　the

lost；　why；　amidst　thy　calculations；　restless　and　unceasing　as　the

wheels　of　Nature　herself；　thou　recoilest　from　the　THOUGHT　TO　BE

ALONE！　　So　with　myself；　at　last　I；　too；　seek　a　convert；　an

equal；I；　too；　shudder　to　be　alone！　　What　thou　hast　warned　me　of

has　come　to　pass。　　Love　reduces　all　things　to　itself。　　Either

must　I　be　drawn　down　to　the　nature　of　the　beloved；　or　hers　must

be　lifted　to　my　own。　　As　whatever　belongs　to　true　Art　has　always

necessarily　had　attraction　for　US；　whose　very　being　is　in　the

ideal　whence　Art　descends；　so　in　this　fair　creature　I　have

learned；　at　last；　the　secret　that　bound　me　to　her　at　the　first

glance。　　The　daughter　of　music；music；　passing　into　her　being；

became　poetry。　　It　was　not　the　stage　that　attracted　her；　with　its

hollow　falsehoods；　it　was　the　land　in　her　own　fancy　which　the

stage　seemed　to　centre　and　represent。　　There　the　poetry　found　a

voice；there　it　struggled　into　imperfect　shape；　and　then　（that

land　insufficient　for　it）　it　fell　back　upon　itself。　　It　coloured

her　thoughts；　it　suffused　her　soul；　it　asked　not　words；　it

created　not　things；　it　gave　birth　but　to　emotions；　and　lavished

itself　on　dreams。　　At　last　came　love；　and　there；　as　a　river　into

the　sea；　it　poured　its　restless　waves；　to　become　mute　and　deep

and　still；the　everlasting　mirror　of　the　heavens。



And　is　it　not　through　this　poetry　which　lies　within　her　that　she

may　be　led　into　the　large　poetry　of　the　universe！　　Often　I　listen

to　her　careless　talk；　and　find　oracles　in　its　unconscious　beauty；

as　we　find　strange　virtues　in　some　lonely　flower。　　I　see　her　mind

ripening　under　my　eyes；　and　in　its　fair　fertility　what　ever…

teeming　novelties　of　thought！　　O　Mejnour！　how　many　of　our　tribe

have　unravelled　the　laws　of　the　universe；have　solved　the

riddles　of　the　exterior　nature；　and　deduced　the　light　from

darkness！　　And　is　not　the　POET；　who　studies　nothing　but　the　human

heart；　a　greater　philosopher　than　all？　　Knowledge　and　atheism　are

incompatible。　　To　know　Nature　is　to　know　that　there　must　be　a

God。　　But　does　it　require　this　to　examine　the　method　and

architecture　of　creation？　　Methinks；　when　I　look　upon　a　pure

mind；　however　ignorant　and　childlike；　that　I　see　the　August　and

Immaterial　One　more　clearly　than　in　all　the　orbs　of　matter　which

career　at　His　bidding　through　space。



Rightly　is　it　the　fundamental　decree　of　our　order；　that　we　must

impart　our　secrets　only　to　the　pure。　　The　most　terrible　part　of

the　ordeal　is　in　the　temptations　that　our　power　affords　to　the

criminal。　　If　it　were　possible　that　a　malevolent　being　could

attain　to　our　faculties；　what　disorder　it　might　introduce　into

the　globe！　　Happy　that　it　is　NOT　possible；　the　malevolence　would

disarm　the　power。　　It　is　in　the　purity　of　Viola　that　I　rely；　as

thou　more　vainly　hast　relied　on　the　courage　or　the　genius　of　thy

pupils。　　Bear　me　witness；　Mejnour！　　Never　since　the　distant　day

in　which　I　pierced　the　Arcana　of　our　knowledge；　have　I　ever

sought　to　make　its　myster