The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 02, No. 11, September, 1858 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 318 pages of information about The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 02, No. 11, September, 1858.

The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 02, No. 11, September, 1858 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 318 pages of information about The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 02, No. 11, September, 1858.

  “I remember, when I think,
  That my youth was half divine.”

Thus the great have ever chosen young men for companions.  Was it not Plato who wished he were the heavens, that he might look down upon his young companion with a thousand eyes?  Thus they do homage to the gift of youth, and by its presence contrive to nestle into its buoyant and pure existence.  If youth will enjoy itself virtuously with gymnastics, with music, with friendship, with poetry, there will come no hours of lamentation and repentance.  They attend the imbecile and thoughtless.  These halcyon days will return to temper and grace the period of old age; as upon the ripened peach reappear the hues of its early blossoms.

Among his seniors the youth perceives a certain jealousy of him.  They pretend that all has been said and done.  They awe him with their great names.  He has to learn, that, though Jew and Greek have spoken, nevertheless he must reiterate and interpret to his own people and generation.  Perchance in the process something new will likewise be added.  Many things still wait an observer.  Still is there infinite hope and expectation, which youth must realize.  In war, in peace, in politics, in books, all eyes are turned to behold the rising of his star.

Reluctantly does the youth yield to the claims of moderation and reserve.  Abandonment to an object has hitherto been his highest wisdom.  But in the pursuit of the most heroic friendship, or the most sovereign passion, the youth discovers that a certain continence is necessary.  He cannot approach too closely; for that moment love is changed into disgust and hate.  He would drink the nectar to the lees.  This is one of Nature’s limitations, and has many analogies; and he who would never see the bottom of any cup, and always be possessed with a divine hunger, must observe them.  I remember how it piqued my childish curiosity that the moon seemed always to retreat when I ran towards her, and to pursue when I fled.  It was a very significant symbol.  Stand a little apart, and things of their own accord will come more than half-way.  Nobody ever goes to meet a loafer.  Self-centred, domesticated persons attract.  What would be the value of the heavens, if we could bring the stars into our lap?  They cannot be approached or appropriated.  Upon the highest mountain the horizon sinks you in a valley, and far aloft in night and mystery gleam the retreating stars.

It must be remembered that indirect vision is much more delicate than direct.  Looking askance, with a certain oblique and upward glance, constitutes the art and power of the poet; for so a gentle invitation is offered the imagination to contribute its aid.  We see clearest when the eye is elongated and slightly curtained.  Persons with round, protuberant eyes are obliged to reduce their superfluous visual power by artificial means.  We subordinate the external organ in order to liberate the inner eye of the mind.  The musing, pensive Hindoos, who have elongated eyes, look through the surface of things to their essence, and call the world Illusion,—­the illusory energy of Vishnu.

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The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 02, No. 11, September, 1858 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.