For you, tribesman, a short span wherein to shout the war cry and swing the club, a little sunlight to see by, a few springs of desire, a few rains, a few snows. The longer the better, for after,—all will be at an end. Like the great hunter, insensate and unaware, you will lie in the dark for the ages of ages.
Wail, tribeswomen and beat your breasts! You shall bring life into the world, but you shall not take life away.
The sleep of life is a good sleep, for man awakens therefrom happy and refreshed. But from the sleep of death there is no awakening. Man born to light, dies into darkness.
Thus it was in the forest ten million years ago.
II
There lies to-day, in the midst of a great house, the body of a man awaiting the last honors which can be rendered to it.
A week ago the doings of that man stirred two countries; two countries, to-day, are shaken by the news of his death. The hundreds to whom he was good and generous, mourn it; those who bore him ill-will are shocked by it; the world regrets it. For all join in remembering that the man, human and frail as other men, was still broad, brilliant and fabulous, a choice and master spirit of his age.
There he lies, the great man, in the midst of his earthly treasures. Presently he will be laid in the narrow house, and they will remain behind. Nothing of the man shall go with him out of the world but that which he brought into the world with him. And tho’ it may be that there is none so presumptuous as to proclaim where and how the man shall arise, yet there are few indeed so obstinate as to believe that he has perished utterly.
For we know that all things move onward and upward. The cell became the ape, the ape became the man, and the man shall become—what? That we must not know clearly. But we must know that it will be something above man, and beyond.