But then, again, a year later I find amongst his writings:—
"Man wendeth to his long, long home,
About the streets the mourners go;
Behold the tomb, and hereby mete
The length and depth of mortal woe.
Thou hast nor lover, kin, nor friend!
The deepest grief hath shallows.
"Ah yes, thou hast; but close thine eyes
Upon this world and gaze above.
There, and there only, shalt thou find
Unchanging and unmeasured love.
Then dare the way, and meekly bend
Thy footsteps t'ward the heavenly Friend.
"Dies Iræ!
Lord, Saviour, God, my only stay,
Desert me not that dreadful day."
Richard's idea was that every man, by doing all the good he could in this life, always working for others, for the human race, always acting "Excelsior," should leave a track of light behind him on this World as he passes through. His idea of God was so immeasurably grander than anything people are usually taught to think about God. It always seemed to him that we dwindled God down to our own mean imaginations; that we made something like ourselves, only bigger, and far crueller. There is some truth in this; we are always talking about God just as if we understood Him. His idea of a Divine Being was so infinite, so great, that to pray to Him was an impertinence; that it was monstrous that we should expect Him to alter one of His decrees, because we prayed for it; that He was a God of big universal love, but so far off, as to be far above anything we can understand. These were the utmost extent of his own Agnostic fits.
Almost contemporary with these sentiments, I find the following verses:—
1.
"Bright imaged in the glassy lake below,
Crisped by the zephyrs' nimble run,
I saw two sister stars appear.
I looked above, there shone but one;
Then fled the zephyrs, and my eye
The sole reflection could descry.
2.
"Then rising high, the crescent skiff
Thro' the deep azure rolled its way;
On earth a misty shadow lay,
While all of heaven was bright and gay.
Then waxed the night cloud thin and rare,
And died within its home, the air.
3.
"Thus senses that improve the soul
To deadliest error oft give birth;
Dust-born, they grovel and apply
To highest heaven low rubs of earth,
Fell fatal masters where they sway,
Obedient slaves when taught t' obey.
4.
"Nor let th' immortal "I" depend
On Reason, blind and faithless guide,
Who knowing nothing knoweth all
Of mortal folly—human pride;
Not thus may truth be wooed and won—
A reasonable creed is none.
5.
"Who then thy falt'ring steps may lead
O'er the wild waste of doubt and fear,
Where sense and reason shed no ray?
The marks and glooms what light may clear?
Shall nature tread a law-girt course,
While man walks earth a living corpse?
6.
"Ah, no! there is a heavenly guide
That leads, directs this fragile clay;
We call it spirit, soul, and life,
Let mortal call it as he may;
Man, go not far, seek not elsewhere;
Search that within—Truth dwelleth there."
He was always in one of the two extremes, meaning All or Nothing. It is what we Catholics call "resisting of Divine grace;" it is what Agnostics would call "resisting a temptation," or the correct shibboleth, I believe, is "upholding his integrity," i.e. disbelieving in God and another world, which he never did at any time of his life.
[1] He was so broad and muscular that he did not look more than five feet nine—but he really was two inches taller, and the one complaint of his life was not to be able to grow another inch to make six feet.
[2] "The Tayyárah, or 'Flying Caravan,' is lightly laden, and travels by forced marches."
[3] "The Rakb is a dromedary-caravan, in which each person carries only his saddle-bags. It usually descends by the road called El Khabt, and makes Mecca on the fifth day."