But these blind eyes refused to recognize unconditional being; and to him whom they call Buddha was it given to perfect the Pagan blasphemy. To return to this comparison of the Word; from the moment that they ignored the object of the discourse, its order and sequence escaped them entirely, and nothing remained but the ravings of delirium. But a horror of that which is not the Absolute is essential to man; and to escape the frightful circle of your vanity, Buddha, you have not hesitated to embrace Nothingness! For instead of explaining all things by their final end, he searched in himself for their intrinsic principle; and, finding there only nothingness, his doctrine teaches this monstrous communion.
This is the method; that the Sage,—having banished successively from his mind the ideas of form and of space, and the very idea of an idea,—arrives finally at Nothingness, and so enters into Nirvana. And people are awed by this revelation! As for me, I find that to the idea of Nothingness they have added that of Enjoyment. This seems to me the last and most Satanic mystery; the silence of a creature intrenched in its final refusal, the incestuous quietude of a soul seated on its integral difference!
THE SEDENTARY
I live in a corner of the highest story of a square and spacious building. I have placed my bed in the embrasure of the window; and when the evening, like the bride of a god, silently mounts her couch, I lie at full length with my face turned toward the night. From time to time, lifting an eyelid heavy as if in death, my sight has swum in a rose-colored glow. But at this hour, emerging with a long sigh from a sleep as heavy as Adam’s, I awaken to a vision of gold. The light tissue of the mosquito netting waves under an ineffable breeze. Here is light purged of heat; and I twist slowly in the delicious coolness. If I put out my bare arm, it seems to me fitting to plunge it to the shoulder in the consistency of this glory, to sink my hand searchingly into the fountain of eternity, as tremulous as its source. I see the magnificent lake of light spread with an irresistible intensity in a sky that is like a concave and liquid basin the color of mulberry leaves. Only the face of the sun, and its insupportable fires, only the mortal thrust of its rays, can drive me from my bed. I foresee that I shall have to pass the day in fasting and detachment. What water will be pure enough to quench my thirst, to satisfy my heart? From what manner of fruit shall I strip the skin with a golden knife?
But when the sun has reached the zenith, followed by the sea as is a shepherd, and by the races of mankind arising in successive multitudes,—it is noon, and everything that occupies a dimension in space is enveloped by the soul of a fire whiter than lightning. The world is effaced and the seals of the furnace broken; all things have vanished in the heart of this new deluge. I have closed all the windows. Prisoner of the light, I take up the journal of my captivity. And now, with my hand on the paper, I write by the same impulse that moves the silkworm, who spins its thread of the leaf that it devours. Sometimes I stroll through the darkened room, through the dining-room or the parlor; or for a moment I rest my hand on the cover of the organ, in this bare space whose center the work-table fills, standing intrepid and alone. Surrounded by these white streaks that mark the fissures in my prison, I develop the thought of holocaust. Ah, if it is enviable to dissolve in a flaming embrace, swept away upon a whirlwind with vehement breath,—how much more beautiful the torture of a spirit devoured by light!
And, when the afternoon is filled with this burning softness, by which the evening is preceded, like the sentiment of paternal love; having purified my body and my mind, I remount to the highest room. Seizing an inexhaustible book, I pursue there the study of Being, the definition of person and substance, of qualities and possibilities.
Between two rows of houses, the glimpse of a river terminates my street; the enormous silver current smokes, and great ships with white sails move across the splendid gap with a smooth and superb grace. I see before me the very River of Life whose image I borrowed when a child, to discourse of Morality. But today, stubborn swimmer though I am, I no longer cherish any hope of landing flat on my face among the reeds in the slime of the other bank, under the salutation of the palms, in a silence interrupted only by the cry of a parrot. Although the shrill cascade invites me, drumming upon the gravel behind the fleshy foliage of the magnolia; although the fabulous boughs are bending beneath their weight of myrobalans and of pomegranates; I will think of them no more—turning my glance to a more angelic science, to this mystic garden which is offered for my enjoyment and my recreation!
THE EARTH VIEWED FROM THE SEA
Arriving from the horizon, our ship is confronted by the wharf of the Earth; and the continent, emerging, spreads its immense architecture out before us. In the morning distinguished by one great star, as I mount the gangway the earth’s blue apparition appears before my eyes. To defend the sun against the pursuit of the restless ocean, this continent has established the deep-set solidity of its ramparts. Their breaches open into a happy countryside.
For a long time in the full daylight we follow the frontier of another world. Carried along by the trade-winds, our ship veers and rebounds upon the resilient abyss to which it confides its whole weight. I am caught up to the Azure, I am stuck there like a cask. Captive of the infinite, suspended at the intersection of sky and water, I see below me all the somber Earth laid out like a chart—the whole world, humble and enormous! My separation from it is irrevocable. All things are far from me, and only sight connects me with them. It will never again be vouch-safed me to set my foot on the solid earth, to construct with my hands a dwelling of wood and stone, to eat in peace food cooked at the domestic fire. Soon we will turn our prow toward the shoreless sea; and, under an immense spread of sail, our advance into the midst of eternity will be shown only by our signal lights.