Chapter 14
1181 Words
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In a perfect state of society, where people will think and act in
harmony with only the purest ******* laws, a knowledge of stenography
and photography will suffice for the creation of perfect works of art.
But until that epoch comes, the artist must be content to do the
grouping, toning, and proportioning of his picture for himself, under
penalty of redundancy and confusion. People nowadays seldom do or
think the right thing at the fitting moment; insomuch that the
biographer, if he would be intelligible, must use his own discretion
in arranging his materials.
Now, in view of the rough shaking which late events had given Balder
and his opinions, it is doing no violence to probability to fancy him
taking an early opportunity to pass these opinions in review. It would
be easy, by a glance at the magic ring, to reproduce his meditations
just as they passed through his brain. Brevity and pertinence,
however, counsel us to recall a dialogue which had taken place about
three years before.
Balder and his father were then in the North of England; and the
latter (who never concerned himself with any save the plainest and
most practical philosophy) was not a little startled at an analogy
drawn by his son between the cloud-cap on Helvellyn's head and the
Almighty! Premising that the cloud-cap, though apparently stable, was
really created by the continuous passage of warmer air through a cold
region around the summit of the mountain, whereby it was for a moment
condensed into visibility and then swept on,--having postulated this
fact, and disregarding the elder's remark that he believed not a word
of it,--Balder went on to say that God was only a set of
attributes,--in a word, the perfection of all human attributes,--and
not at all an individual!
"The perfect human attributes," replied Balder, unruffled, "correspond
to the region of condensation,--the cold place, you understand."
"The constant condensation of the warm current from below corresponds
to the taking on of these attributes by a ceaseless succession of
human souls. Filling out the Divine character, they lose identity, and
so make room for others."
"If I could believe you understood it, dear old sceptic!" returned
Balder, with affectionate irreverence, throwing his arm across his
father's broad shoulders. "I say that every soul of right capacity,
living for culture, and not afraid of itself, will at last reach that
highest point. It is the sublime goal of man, and no human life is
complete unless in gaining it. Many fail, but not all. I will not! No,
I am not blasphemous; I think life without definite aim not worth
having; and that aim, the highest conceivable."
Thor, having stared in silence at his descendant, came out with a
stentorian Viking laugh, which Balder sustained with perfect
good-humor.
"Ho, ho!--the devil is in you, son!--in those black eyes of
yours,--ho, ho! No other Helwyse ever had such eyes,--or such ideas
either! Well, but supposing you passed the condensation point, what
then?"
"I cease to be; but what was I becomes the pure, life-giving,
spiritual substance, and enters into fresh personalities, and so
passes up again in endless circulation."
"As with all waste matter; they are cast aside, and, as distinct
souls, are gradually annihilated. But they may still manure the soil,
and involuntarily help the growth of others. Sooner or later, in one
or another form, all come into use."
"There is the same kind of difference," returned the philosopher, "as
between light and earth,--both of which help the growth of flowers;
but light gives color and beauty, earth only the insipid matter. I
would rather be the light."
"Another thing," proceeded Thor, ignoring this distinction; "admitting
all else, how do you account for your region of condensation?"
"By the necessity of perfection," answered Balder, after some
consideration. "There would be no meaning in existence unless it
tended towards perfection. But you have hit on the unanswerable
question."
Thor shook his head and huge grizzled beard. "German University
humbug!" growled he. "Get you into a scrape some day. The cloud's not
made in that way, I tell you! Come, let's go back to the inn."
"Take my arm," said Balder; and as together they descended the spur of
the mountain, he added lovingly, "I'll bring no clouds across your
sky, my dear old man!" So the hospitable inn received them.
The discussion between the two was never renewed; but Balder held to
his creed. He elaborated and fortified what had been mere outline
before. No dogma can be conceived which many circumstances will not
seem to confirm and justify. But we cannot attempt to keep abreast of
Balder's deductions. There are as many theological systems as
individual souls; and no system can be wholly apprehended by any one
save its author.
Mastery of men and things,--supreme knowledge to the end of supreme
power,--such seems to have been his ambition,--an ambition too
abstract and lofty for much rivalry. Nature and human nature were at
once his laboratory and his instruments. His senses were to him
outlets of divinity. The good and evil of such a scheme scarce need
pointing out. It was the apotheosis of self-respect; but self-respect
raised to such a height becomes self-worship; human vision dazzles at
the sublimity of the prospect; at the moment of greatest weakness the
soul arrogates invincible power, and falls! For, the mightier man is,
the more absolutely does he need the support of a mightier Man than he
can ever be.
No doubt Balder had often been assailed by doubts and weariness; the
path had seemed too long and arduous, and he had secretly pined for
some swift issue from perplexity and delay. In such a moment was it
that the voice of darkness gained his ear, and, like a will-o'-the-wisp,
lured him to calamity. Verily, it is not easy to be God. Only builders
of the Tower of Babel know the awfulness of its overthrow.
Balder's spirit lay prostrate among the ruins, too stunned and
bewildered to see the reason or justice of his fall. Such a state is
dangerous, for, the better part of the mind being either occupied with
its disaster or stupefied by it, the superficial part is readily moved
to folly or extravagance,--to deeds and thoughts which a saner moment
would scout and ridicule. Well is it, then, if the blind steps are
guided to better foothold than they know how to choose. Angels are
said to be particularly watchful over those who sleep; perhaps, also,
during the darkness which follows on moral perversion.
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