 | Pierre, or, The ambiguities |  |
VI.
One night, one day, and a small part of the one ensuing
evening had been given to Pierre to prepare for the momentous
interview with Isabel.
Now, thank God, thought Pierre, the night is past,—the
night of Chaos and of Doom; the day only, and the skirt of
evening now remain. May heaven new-string my soul, and
confirm me in the Christ-like feeling I first felt. May I, in all
my least shapeful thoughts still square myself by the inflexible
rule of holy right. Let no unmanly, mean temptation cross my
path this day; let no base stone lie in it. This day I will forsake
the censuses of men, and seek the suffrages of the god-like
population of the trees, which now seem to me a nobler race
than man. Their high foliage shall drop heavenliness upon me;
my feet in contact with their mighty roots, immortal vigor shall
so steal into me. Guide me, gird me, guard me, this day, ye
sovereign powers! Bind me in bonds I can not break; remove
all sinister allurings from me; eternally this day deface in me
the detested and distorted images of all the convenient lies and
duty-subterfuges of the diving and ducking moralities of this
muzzle, cram me with your own intent. Let no world-syren
come to sing to me this day, and wheedle from me my undauntedness.
I cast my eternal die this day, ye powers. On
my strong faith in ye Invisibles, I stake three whole felicities,
and three whole lives this day. If ye forsake me now,—farewell
to Faith, farewell to Truth, farewell to God; exiled for
aye from God and man, I shall declare myself an equal power
with both; free to make war on Night and Day, and all
thoughts and things of mind and matter, which the upper and
the nether firmaments do clasp!
| Pierre, or, The ambiguities | |