Here the letters faded away into a dead blank, more awfully intelligible
than the most eloquent words.
A new hope now flashed across me. The dream of the Garden, which had been
for some time almost forgotten, returned to my mind. “Am I then,” I
exclaimed, “in the path to the promised mystery? and shall the great
secret of Eternal Life _indeed_ be mine?”
“Yes!” seemed to answer, out of the air, that spirit‐voice, which still
was heard crowning the choir with its single sweetness. I hailed the omen
with transport. Love and Immortality, both beckoning me onward—who could
give a thought to fear, with two such bright hopes in view? Having invoked
and blessed that unknown enchantress, whose steps had led me to this abode
of mystery and knowledge, I plunged into the chasm.
Instead of that vague, spectral twilight which had at first met my eye, I
now found, as I entered, a thick darkness, which, though far less
horrible, was, at this moment, still more disconcerting, as my lamp, which
had been, for some time, almost useless, was fast expiring. Resolved,
however, to make the most of its last gleam, I hastened, with rapid step,
through this gloomy region, which seemed wider and more open to the air
than any that I had yet passed. Nor was it long before the appearance of a
bright blaze in the distance announced to me that my first great Trial was
at hand. As I drew nearer, the flames burst high and wide on all
sides;—and the spectacle that now presented itself was such as might have
appalled even hearts more habituated to dangers than mine.
There lay before me, extending completely across my path, a thicket, or
grove of the most combustible trees of Egypt—tamarind, pine, and Arabian
balm. Around their stems and branches were coiled serpents of fire, which,
twisting themselves rapidly from bough to bough, spread their own wild‐
fire as they went, and involved tree after tree in one general blaze. It
was, indeed, rapid as the burning of those reed‐beds of Ethiopia, whose
light brightens, at night, the distant cataracts of the Nile.
Through the middle of this blazing grove, I perceived, my only pathway
lay. There was not a moment to be lost—the conflagration gained rapidly on
either side, and already the narrowing path between was strewed with fire.
Casting away my now useless lamp, and holding my robe as some protection
over my head, with a tremor, I own, in every limb, I ventured through the
blaze.
Instantly, as if my presence had given new life to the flames, a fresh
outbreak of combustion arose on all sides. The trees clustered into a
bower of fire above my head, while the serpents, that hung hissing from
the red branches, shot showers of sparkles down upon me, as I passed.
Never were decision and activity more serviceable;—one minute later, and I
must have perished. The narrow opening, of which I had so promptly availed
myself, closed instantly behind me; and, as I looked back, to contemplate
the ordeal which I had passed, I saw that the whole grove was already one
mass of fire.
Happy at having escaped this first trial, I plucked from one of the pine‐
trees a bough that was but just kindled, and, with this for my only guide,
hastened breathlessly forward. I had gone but a few paces, when the path
turned suddenly off,—leading downwards, as I could see by the glimmer of
my brand, into a more confined space, through which a chilling air, as if
from some neighbouring waters, blew over my brow. Nor had I proceeded very
far, when the sound of torrents fell on my ear,—mingled, as I thought,
from time to time, with shrill wailings, like the cries of persons in
danger or distress. At every step the noise of the dashing waters
increased, and I now perceived that I had entered an immense rocky cavern,
through the middle of which, headlong as a winter‐torrent, the flood, to
whose roar I had been listening, rushed. Upon its surface, too, there
floated strange, spectre‐like shapes, which, as they went by, sent forth
those dismal shrieks, as if in fear of some precipice to whose brink they
were hurrying.
I saw too plainly that my course must be across that torrent. It was
fearful; but in courage lay my only hope. What awaited me on the opposite
shore, I knew not; for all there was wrapped in impenetrable gloom, nor
could the weak light I held reach half so far. Dismissing, however, all
thoughts but that of pressing onward, I sprung from the rock on which I
stood into the flood,—trusting that, with my right hand, I should be able
to buffet the current, while, with the other, I might contrive to hold my
brand aloft, as long as a glimmer of it remained, to guide me to the
shore.
Long and formidable was the struggle I had to maintain. More than once,
overpowered by the rush of the waters, I had almost given myself up, as
destined to follow those apparitions, that still passed me, hurrying, with
mournful cries, to their doom in some invisible gulf before them.
At length, just as my strength was nearly exhausted, and the last remains
of the pine‐branch were falling from my hand, I saw, outstretching towards
me into the water, a light double balustrade, with a flight of steps
between, ascending, almost perpendicularly, from the wave, till they
seemed lost in a dense mass of clouds above. This glimpse—for it was no
more, as my light expired in giving it—lent new spring to my courage.
Having now both hands at liberty, so desperate were my efforts, that after
a few minutes’ struggle, I felt my brow strike against the stairway, and,
in an instant more, my feet were on the steps.
Rejoiced at my rescue from that perilous flood, though I knew not whither
the stairway led, I promptly ascended it. But this feeling of confidence
was of short duration. I had not mounted far, when, to my horror, I
perceived, that each successive step, as my foot left it, broke away from
beneath me,—leaving me in midair, with no other alternative than that of
mounting still by the same momentary footing, and with the dreadful doubt
whether it would even endure my tread.
And thus did I, for a few seconds, continue to ascend, with nothing
beneath me but that awful river, in which—so tranquil it had become—I
could hear the plash of the falling fragments, as every step in succession
gave way under my feet. It was a trying moment, but still worse remained.
I now found the balustrade, by which I had held during my ascent, and
which had hitherto seemed firm, grow tremulous in my hand,—while the step
to which I was about to trust myself, tottered under my foot. Just then, a
momentary flash, as if of lightning, broke around, and I saw, hanging out
of the clouds, within my reach, a huge brazen ring. Instinctively I
stretched forth my arm to seize it, and, at the same instant, both
balustrade and steps gave way beneath me, and I was left swinging by my
hands in the dark void. As if, too, this massy ring, which I grasped, was
by some magic power linked with all the winds in heaven, no sooner had I
seized it than, like the touching of a spring, it seemed to give loose to
every variety of gusts and tempests, that ever strewed the sea‐shore with
wrecks or dead; and, as I swung about, the sport of this elemental strife,
each new burst of its fury threatened to shiver me, like a storm‐sail, to
atoms!
Nor was even this the worst;—still holding, I know not how, by the ring, I
felt myself caught up, as if by a thousand whirlwinds, and round and
round, like a stone‐shot in a sling, whirled in the midst of all this
deafening chaos, till my brain grew dizzy, and my recollection confused,
and I almost fancied myself on that wheel of the infernal world, whose
rotations, it is said, Eternity alone can number!
Human strength could no longer sustain such a trial. I was on the point,
at last, of loosing my hold, when suddenly the violence of the storm
moderated;—my whirl through the air gradually ceased, and I felt the ring
slowly descend with me, till—happy as a shipwrecked mariner at the first
touch of land—I found my feet once more upon firm ground.
At the same moment, a light of the most delicious softness filled the
whole air. Music, such as is heard in dreams, came floating at a distance;
and, as my eyes gradually recovered their powers of vision, a scene of
glory was revealed to them, almost too bright for imagination, and yet
living and real. As far as the sight could reach, enchanting gardens were
seen, opening away through long tracts of light and verdure, and sparkling
every where with fountains, that circulated, like streams of life, among
the flowers. Not a charm was here wanting, that the imagination of poet or
prophet, in their pictures of Elysium, ever yet dreamed or promised.
Vistas, opening into scenes of indistinct grandeur,—streams, shining out
at intervals, in their shadowy course,—and labyrinths of flowers, leading,
by mysterious windings, to green, spacious glades, full of splendour and
repose. Over all this, too, there fell a light, from some unseen source,
resembling nothing that illumines our upper world—a sort of golden
moonlight, mingling the warm radiance of day with the calm and melancholy
lustre of night.
Nor were there wanting inhabitants for this sunless Paradise. Through all
the bright gardens were wandering, with the serene air and step of happy
spirits, groups both of young and old, of venerable and of lovely forms,
bearing, most of them, the Nile’s white flowers on their heads, and
branches of the eternal palm in their hands; while, over the verdant turf,
fair children and maidens went dancing to aërial music, whose source was,
like that of the light, invisible, but which filled the whole air with its
mystic sweetness.
Exhausted as I was by the trials I had undergone, no sooner did I perceive
those fair groups in the distance, than my weariness, both of frame and
spirit, was forgotten. A thought crossed me that she, whom I sought, might
be among them; and, notwithstanding the awe, with which that unearthly
scene inspired me, I was about to fly, on the instant, to ascertain my
hope. But in the act of making the effort, I felt my robe gently pulled,
and turning, beheld an aged man before me, whom, by the sacred hue of his
garb, I knew to be a Hierophant. Placing a branch of the consecrated palm
in my hand, he said, in a solemn voice, “Aspirant of the Mysteries,
welcome!”—then, regarding me for a few seconds with grave attention,
added, in a tone of courteousness and interest, “The victory over the body
hath been gained!—Follow me, young Greek, to thy resting place.”
I obeyed in silence,—and the Priest, turning away from this scene of
splendour, into a secluded path, where the light faded away, as we
advanced, conducted me to a small pavilion, by the side of a whispering
stream, where the very spirit of slumber seemed to preside, and, pointing
to a bed of dried poppy‐leaves within it, left me to repose.