XXI
Some time after this I was surprised one morning at the sudden entranceof Amroth into my cell. He came in with a very bright and holidayaspect, and, assuming a paternal air, said that he had heard a verycreditable account of my work and conduct, and that he had obtainedleave for me to have an exeat. I suppose that I showed signs ofimpatience at the interruption, for he broke into a laugh, and said,"Well, I am going to insist. I believe you are working too hard, and wemust not overstrain our faculties. It was bad enough, in the old days,but then it was generally the poor body which suffered first. But indeedit is quite possible to overwork here, and you have the dim air of thepale student. Come," he said, "whatever happens, do not become priggish.Not to want a holiday is a sign of spiritual pride. Besides, I havesome curious things to show you."
I got up and said that I was ready, and Amroth led the way like a boyout for a holiday. He was brimming over with talk, and told me somestories about my friends in the land of delight, interspersing them withimitation of their manner and gesture, which made me giggle--Amroth wasan admirable mimic. "I had hopes of Charmides," he said; "your staythere aroused his curiosity. But he has gone back to his absurd tonesand half-tones, and is nearly insupportable. Cynthia is much moresensible, but Lucius is a nuisance, and Charmides, by the way, hasbecome absurdly jealous of him. They really are very silly; but I have apleasant plot, which I will unfold to you."
As we went down the interminable stairs, I said to Amroth, "There is aquestion I want to ask you. Why do we have to go and come, up and down,backwards and forwards, in this absurd way, as if we were still in thebody? Why not just slip off the leads, and fly down over the crags likea pair of pigeons? It all seems to me so terribly material."
Amroth looked at me with a smile. "I don't advise you to try," he said."Why, little brother, of course we are just as limited here in theseways. The material laws of earth are only a type of the laws here. Theyall have a meaning which remains true."
"But," I said, "we can visit the earth with incredible rapidity?"
"How can I explain?" said Amroth. "Of course we can do that, because thematerial universe is so extremely small in comparison. All the stars inthe world are here but as a heap of sand, like the motes which dance ina sunbeam. There is no question of size, of course! But there is such athing as spiritual nearness and spiritual distance for all that. Thesouls who do not return to earth are very far off, as you will sometimesee. But we messengers have our short cuts, and I shall take advantageof them to-day."
We went out of the great door of the fortress, and I felt a sense ofrelief. It was good to put it all behind one. For a long time I talkedto Amroth about all my doings. "Come," he said at last, "this will neverdo! You are becoming something of a bore! Do you know that your talk isvery provincial? You seem to have forgotten about every one andeverything except your Philips and Annas--very worthy creatures, nodoubt--and the Master, who is a very able man, but not the littledemigod you believe. You are hypnotised! It is indeed time for you tohave a holiday. Why, I believe you have half forgotten about me, and yetyou made a great fuss when I quitted you."
I smiled, frowned, blushed. It was indeed true. Now that he was with meI loved him as well, indeed better than ever; but I had not beenthinking very much about him.
We went over the moorlands in the keen air, Amroth striding cleanly andlightly over the heather. Then we began to descend into the valley,through a fine forest country, somewhat like the chestnut-woods of theApennines. The view was of incomparable beauty and width. I could see agreat city far out in the plain, with a river entering it and leavingit, like a ribbon of silver. There were rolling ridges beyond. On theleft rose huge, shadowy, snow-clad hills, rising to one tremendous domeof snow.
"Where are you going to take me?" I said to Amroth.
"Never mind," said he; "it's my day and my plan for once. You shall seewhat you shall see, and it will amuse me to hear your ingenuousconjectures."
We were soon on the outskirts of the city we had seen, which seemed adifferent kind of place from any I had yet visited. It was built, Iperceived, upon an exactly conceived plan, of a stately, classical kindof architecture, with great gateways and colonnades. There were peopleabout, rather silent and serious-looking, soberly clad, who saluted usas we passed, but made no attempt to talk to us. "This is rather atiresome place, I always think," said Amroth; "but you ought to see it."
We went along the great street and reached a square. I was surprised atthe elderly air of all we met. We found ourselves opposite a greatbuilding with a dome, like a church. People were going in under theportico, and we went in with them. They treated us as strangers, andmade courteous way for us to pass.
Inside, the footfalls fell dumbly upon a great carpeted floor. It wasvery like a great church, except that there was no altar or sign ofworship. At the far end, under an alcove, was a statue of white marblegleaming white, with head and hand uplifted. The whole place had asolemn and noble air. Out of the central nave there opened a series ofgreat vaulted chapels; and I could now see that in each chapel therewas a dark figure, in a sort of pulpit, addressing a standing audience.There were names on scrolls over the doors of the light iron-workscreens which separated the chapels from the nave, but they were in alanguage I did not understand.
Amroth stopped at the third of the chapels, and said, "Here, this willdo." We came in, and as before there was a courteous notice taken of us.A man in black came forward, and led us to a high seat, like a pew, nearthe preacher, from which we could survey the crowd. I was struck withtheir look of weariness combined with intentness.
The lecturer, a young man, had made a pause, but upon our taking ourplaces, he resumed his speech. It was a discourse, as far as I couldmake out, on the development of poetry; he was speaking of lyricalpoetry. I will not here reproduce it. I will only say that anything moreacute, delicate, and discriminating, and, I must add, more entirelyvalueless and pedantic, I do not think I ever heard. It must haverequired immense and complicated knowledge. He was tracing thedevelopment of a certain kind of dramatic lyric, and what surprised mewas that he supplied the subtle intellectual connection, the missinglinks, so to speak, of which there is no earthly record. Let me give asingle instance. He was accounting for a rather sudden change of thoughtin a well-known poet, and he showed that it had been brought about byhis making the acquaintance of a certain friend who had introduced himto a new range of subjects, and by his study of certain books. Thesefacts are unrecorded in his published biography, but the analysis of thelecturer, done in a few pointed sentences, not only carried convictionto the mind, but just, so to speak, laid the truth bare. And yet it wasall to me incredibly sterile and arid. Not the slightest interest wastaken in the emotional or psychological side; it was all purely andexactly scientific. We waited until the end of the address, which wasgreeted with decorous applause, and the hall was emptied in a moment.
We visited other chapels where the same sort of thing was going on inother subjects. It all produced in me a sort of stupefaction, both atthe amazing knowledge involved, and in the essential futility of it all.
Before we left the building we went up to the statue, which representeda female figure, looking upwards, with a pure and delicate beauty ofform and gesture that was inexpressibly and coldly lovely.
We went out in silence, which seemed to be the rule of the place.
When we came away from the building we were accosted by a very grave andcourteous person, who said that he perceived that we were strangers, andasked if he could be of any service to us, and whether we proposed tomake a stay of any duration. Amroth thanked him, and said smilingly thatwe were only passing through. The gentleman said that it was a pity,because there was much of interest to hear. "In this place," he saidwith a deprecating gesture, "we grudge every hour that is not devoted tothought." He went on to inquire if we were following any particular lineof study, and as our answers were unsatisfactory, he said that we couldnot do better than begin by attending the school of literat
ure. "Iobserved," he said, "that you were listening to our Professor, Sylvanus,with attention. He is devoting himself to the development of poeticalform. It is a rich subject. It has generally been believed that poetswork by a sort of native inspiration, and that the poetic gift is a sortof heightening of temperament. But Sylvanus has proved--I think I may goso far as to say this--that this is all pure fancy, and what is worse,unsound fancy. It is all merely a matter of heredity, and the apparentaccidents on which poetical expression depends can be analysed exactlyand precisely into the most commonplace and simple elements. It is onlya question of proportion. Now we who value clearness of mind aboveeverything, find this a very refreshing thought. The real crown and sumof human achievement, in the intellectual domain, is to see thingsclearly and exactly, and upon that clearness all progress depends. Wehave disposed by this time of most illusions; and the same scientificmethod is being strenuously applied to all other processes of humanendeavour. It is even hinted that Sylvanus has practically proved thatthe imaginative element in literature is purely a taint of barbarism,though he has not yet announced the fact. But many of his class arelooking forward to his final lecture on the subject as to a profoundlysensational event, which is likely to set a deep mark upon all ourconceptions of literary endeavour. So that," he said with a tolerantsmile, gently rubbing his hands together, "our life here is not by anymeans destitute of the elements of excitement, though we most of us, ofcourse, aim at the acquisition of a serene and philosophic temper. ButI must not delay you," he added; "there is much to see and to hear, andyou will be welcomed everywhere: and indeed I am myself somewhat closelyengaged, though in a subject which is not fraught with such politeemollience. I attend the school of metaphysics, from which we have atlast, I hope, eliminated the last traces of that debasing element ofpsychology, which has so long vitiated the exact study of the subject."
He took himself off with a bow, and I gazed blankly at Amroth. "Theconversation of that very polite person," I said, "is like a bad dream!What is this extraordinarily depressing place? Shall I have to undergo acourse here?"
"No, my dear boy," said Amroth. "This is rather out of your depth. But Iam somewhat disappointed at your view of the situation. Surely these areall very important matters? Your disposition is, I am afraid, incurablyfrivolous! How could people be more worthily employed than in gettingrid of the last traces of intellectual error, and in referringeverything to its actual origin? Did not your heart burn within you athis luminous exposition? I had always thought you a boy of intellectualpromise."
"Amroth," I said, "I will not be made fun of. This is the most dreadfulplace I have ever seen or conceived of! It frightens me. The dryness ofpure science is terrifying enough, but after all that has a kind ofstrange beauty, because it deals either with transcendental ideas ofmathematical relation, or with the deducing of principle fromaccumulated facts. But here the object appears to be to eliminate thehuman element from humanity. I insist upon knowing where you havebrought me, and what is going on here."
"Well, then," said Amroth, "I will conceal it from you no longer. Thisis the paradise of thought, where meagre and spurious philosophers, andall who have submerged life in intellect, have their reward. It _is_,as you say, a very dreary place for children of nature like you and me.But I do not suppose that there is a happier or a busier place in allour dominions. The worst of it is that it is so terribly hard to get outof. It is a blind alley and leads nowhere. Every step has to beretraced. These people have to get a very severe dose of homely life todo them any good; and the worst of it is that they are so entirelyvirtuous. They have never had the time or the inclination to be anythingelse. And they are among the most troublesome and undisciplined of allour people. But I see you have had enough; and unless you wish to waitfor Professor Sylvanus's sensational pronouncement, we will goelsewhere, and have some other sort of fun. But you must not be so muchupset by these things."
"It would kill me," I said, "to hear any more of these lectures, and ifI had to listen to much of our polite friend's conversation, I should goout of my mind. I would rather fall into the hands of the cragmen! Iwould rather have a stand-up fight than be slowly stifled withinteresting information. But where do these unhappy people come from?"
"A few come from universities," said Amroth, "but they are not as a rulereally learned men. They are more the sort of people who subscribe tolibraries, and belong to local literary societies, and go into a goodmany subjects on their own account. But really learned men are almostalways more aware of their ignorance than of their knowledge, andrecognise the vitality of life, even if they do not always exhibit it.But come, we are losing time, and we must go further afield."
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