CHAPTER XXV
“Our life is no dream; but it ought to become one, and perhaps will.”--NOVALIS.
“And on the ground, which is my modres gate, I knocke with my staf; erlich and late, And say to hire, Leve mother, let me in.” CHAUCER, The Pardoneres Tale.
Sinking from such a state of ideal bliss, into the world of shadowswhich again closed around and infolded me, my first dread was, notunnaturally, that my own shadow had found me again, and that my torturehad commenced anew. It was a sad revulsion of feeling. This, indeed,seemed to correspond to what we think death is, before we die. Yet Ifelt within me a power of calm endurance to which I had hitherto beena stranger. For, in truth, that I should be able if only to think suchthings as I had been thinking, was an unspeakable delight. An hour ofsuch peace made the turmoil of a lifetime worth striving through.
I found myself lying in the open air, in the early morning, beforesunrise. Over me rose the summer heaven, expectant of the sun. Theclouds already saw him, coming from afar; and soon every dewdrop wouldrejoice in his individual presence within it.
I lay motionless for a few minutes; and then slowly rose and lookedabout me. I was on the summit of a little hill; a valley lay beneath,and a range of mountains closed up the view upon that side. But, to myhorror, across the valley, and up the height of the opposing mountains,stretched, from my very feet, a hugely expanding shade. There it lay,long and large, dark and mighty. I turned away with a sick despair; whenlo! I beheld the sun just lifting his head above the eastern hill,and the shadow that fell from me, lay only where his beams fell not. Idanced for joy. It was only the natural shadow, that goes with every manwho walks in the sun. As he arose, higher and higher, the shadow-headsank down the side of the opposite hill, and crept in across the valleytowards my feet.
Now that I was so joyously delivered from this fear, I saw andrecognised the country around me. In the valley below, lay my owncastle, and the haunts of my childhood were all about me hastened home.My sisters received me with unspeakable joy; but I suppose they observedsome change in me, for a kind of respect, with a slight touch of awe init, mingled with their joy, and made me ashamed. They had been in greatdistress about me. On the morning of my disappearance, they had foundthe floor of my room flooded; and, all that day, a wondrous and nearlyimpervious mist had hung about the castle and grounds. I had been gone,they told me, twenty-one days. To me it seemed twenty-one years. Norcould I yet feel quite secure in my new experiences. When, at night, Ilay down once more in my own bed, I did not feel at all sure that when Iawoke, I should not find myself in some mysterious region of Fairy Land.My dreams were incessant and perturbed; but when I did awake, I sawclearly that I was in my own home.
My mind soon grew calm; and I began the duties of my new position,somewhat instructed, I hoped, by the adventures that had befallen me inFairy Land. Could I translate the experience of my travels there, intocommon life? This was the question. Or must I live it all over again,and learn it all over again, in the other forms that belong to the worldof men, whose experience yet runs parallel to that of Fairy Land? Thesequestions I cannot answer yet. But I fear.
Even yet, I find myself looking round sometimes with anxiety, to seewhether my shadow falls right away from the sun or no. I have never yetdiscovered any inclination to either side. And if I am not unfrequentlysad, I yet cast no more of a shade on the earth, than most men who havelived in it as long as I. I have a strange feeling sometimes, that I ama ghost, sent into the world to minister to my fellow men, or, rather,to repair the wrongs I have already done.
May the world be brighter for me, at least in those portions of it,where my darkness falls not.
Thus I, who set out to find my Ideal, came back rejoicing that I hadlost my Shadow.
When the thought of the blessedness I experienced, after my death inFairy Land, is too high for me to lay hold upon it and hope in it,I often think of the wise woman in the cottage, and of her solemnassurance that she knew something too good to be told. When I amoppressed by any sorrow or real perplexity, I often feel as if I hadonly left her cottage for a time, and would soon return out of thevision, into it again. Sometimes, on such occasions, I find myself,unconsciously almost, looking about for the mystic mark of red, withthe vague hope of entering her door, and being comforted by her wisetenderness. I then console myself by saying: “I have come through thedoor of Dismay; and the way back from the world into which that has ledme, is through my tomb. Upon that the red sign lies, and I shall find itone day, and be glad.”
I will end my story with the relation of an incident which befell me afew days ago. I had been with my reapers, and, when they ceased theirwork at noon, I had lain down under the shadow of a great, ancientbeech-tree, that stood on the edge of the field. As I lay, with my eyesclosed, I began to listen to the sound of the leaves overhead. At first,they made sweet inarticulate music alone; but, by-and-by, the soundseemed to begin to take shape, and to be gradually moulding itself intowords; till, at last, I seemed able to distinguish these, half-dissolvedin a little ocean of circumfluent tones: “A great good is coming--iscoming--is coming to thee, Anodos;” and so over and over again. Ifancied that the sound reminded me of the voice of the ancient woman, inthe cottage that was four-square. I opened my eyes, and, for a moment,almost believed that I saw her face, with its many wrinkles and itsyoung eyes, looking at me from between two hoary branches of the beechoverhead. But when I looked more keenly, I saw only twigs and leaves,and the infinite sky, in tiny spots, gazing through between. Yet I knowthat good is coming to me--that good is always coming; though few haveat all times the simplicity and the courage to believe it. What wecall evil, is the only and best shape, which, for the person and hiscondition at the time, could be assumed by the best good. And so,FAREWELL.
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