The Journal of Arthur Stirling : ("The Valley of the Shadow") Part 52

--But there is a deeper side to this wonderful thing--this prospect of peace--this end of pain. All these solemn realities that were so much to thee--this "world" and all its ways--its conventions and proprieties, its duties and its trials; how now, do they seem so much to thee after all?

Cynical relative that wouldst "leave it to time"--was I so wrong, that I would not hear thy wisdom? Suppose thou wert coming with me to-morrow--hey?

And to leave all thy clothes and thy clubs, thy bank-account, and thy reputation, and thy stories! Ah, thou canst not come with me, but thou wilt come after me some day, never fear. This is a journey that each man goes alone.

Oh, it is easy to be a man when you are sentenced to die. Then all things slip into their places, power and pride, wealth and fame--what strange fantasies they seem! What tales I could tell the world at this minute, of how their ways seem to me!--Oh, take my advice, good friend, and pray thy G.o.d for one hour in which thou mayst see the truth of all those foolish great things of thy life!

I read Alastor this afternoon. What a strange vision it is! And I, too, in awe and mystery shall journey away unto a high mountain to die.

--And then later I went out into the Park. I saw a flower; and suddenly the wild ecstasy flashed over me, and I sank down upon a seat, and hid my face in my hands, and everything swirled black about me. I cried: "I do not want to die! Why, I am only a boy! I love the flowers--I want to see the springtime!"

And then I felt some one take me by the shoulder, and heard a grim voice within me say, "Come! Come!"

Oh, it will be all right, never fear! Never yet have I failed to do what I resolved to do. And thou world, thou wouldst have me thy slave; but I am no man's slave--not I!

My death-warrant is ready. I go for it to-morrow.

June 6th.

Last night I knelt by the bedside, far into the deep hours, far into the dawn. The whole drama of my life rolled out before me, I saw it all, I lived it all again; and Him in whose arms I lay--I blessed Him for the whole of it. Now that the pain is gone I see that it was beautiful, that flower of my life. Other flowers the plant might have borne; but this flower was beautiful; and each flower is for itself.

I stretch out my arms, I float upon a tide, back, back, into the rolling source of things. Weep not for me, you who may love me; I can not die, for I never was; that which I am, I was always, and shall be ever; I am _He_. Go out into the world, you who may love me, and say, "This flower is he, this sunset cloud is he; this wind is his breath, this song is his spirit."

What is my faith, the faith in which I die? It is the faith of modern thought; it is the faith of the ages. It is a spiritual Pantheism, an impa.s.sioned Agnosticism.

A Presence am I; what is my source I know not, nor can I ever know. The moral fact I know, my will; and I take it as I find it, and rejoice in the making of beauty.

Do I believe that I ever shall live again? I know that I shall not. I do not insult His perfection and my faith, with the wish that such as I should be immortal. What I have He gave me; it is His, and He will take it. I have no rights, and I have no claims. I see not why He should give me ages because He has given me an hour. He never turns back, He never makes over again--that I know.

--And neither do I ask rewards; my life was beautiful, I bless Him for every prayer. I ask Him not that He cover the fair painting with whitewash.

I have no fear of Oblivion. I have no thoughts about it. There are no thoughts in Oblivion.

_The days when thou wert not, did they trouble thee? The days when thou art not shall trouble thee as much_.

--I have made up my mind that I will get some work this morning, or sell my coat, or something. I will go out into the country, I will be alone with Him to-night. I will fling off every chain that has bound me. I will fling off the world, I will fling off pain, I will fling off health. I will say, "Burst thyself, brain! Rend thyself, body, as thou wilt!--but I will see my G.o.d to-night before I die!"

I have been to the publishers. They gave me back The Captive. "It is done."

THE END