Part 16 (2/2)

The most distinguished among the fervid lovers of G.o.d of later times were the saints Jean de la Croix, Alfonso da Liguori, and Francois de Sales. The _Tract of the Love of G.o.d_, written by Francois de Sales, surpa.s.ses everything ever achieved in this direction.

I will not dilate further on this barren aspect of emotionalism so easily traceable through the later centuries in many a Catholic and Protestant sentimentalist, but will conclude this chapter with a brief discussion of Novalis. If I mention this poet in this connexion it is not because I desire to depreciate his genius, but because, possessing as he did, in a rare degree, depth of feeling and power of expression, he is an important witness of an unusual type. True, here and there his poems are reminiscent of Jacopone, but he is not sufficiently ingenuous, and is altogether too morbid to be cla.s.sed with that ardent fanatic. He shares with Jacopone and other poets the yearning to grasp transcendental things with the senses, to approach the Deity with a love which cannot be called anything but sensuous. Novalis' _Hymns to the Night_ are the most magnificent example of this perfect interpenetration of sensuous and transcendental love, and at the same time represent a complete fusion of the love he bore to his fiancee, who died young, and the wors.h.i.+p of Mary. Night has opened _infinite eyes_ in us, and we behold the secret of love unfolding itself in the heart of this poet, at once unique and pathetic, lofty and morbid. The whole universe he conceives as a female being for whose embrace he is longing. It is a new emotion: neither the chaste wors.h.i.+p of the Madonna, nor the s.e.xually-mystic striving to embrace with the soul. The night gives birth to a foreboding which excites and soothes all vague desires. The lover thus soliloquises of the night:

In infinite s.p.a.ce.

Thou'dst dissolve, If it held thee not, If it bound thee not, And thrilled thee, That afire Thou begettest the world.

Verily before thou art I was, With my s.e.x The mother sent me To live in thy world, And to hallow it With love.

Here the ancient, mystical longing to become one with G.o.d is conceived under the symbol of the night. (A symbol which we shall meet again, magnified, in Wagner's _Tristan_.)

Lo! Love has burst its prison.

No parting now shall be, And life's full tide has risen Like to a boundless sea.

One night of love supernal, Only one golden song, And the face of the Eternal To light our path along.

In addition, Novalis was a perfect woman-wors.h.i.+pper. He loved the Middle Ages and Catholicism. ”The reformation killed Christianity; henceforth Christianity has ceased to exist.” ”Catholicism preached nothing but love for the holy, beautiful Lady of Christianity, who, endowed with divine virtue, was able to deliver all loyal hearts from the most terrible dangers.” He wrote hymns to Mary in the style of the pietists, emphasising more especially the principle of motherliness:

Oh, Mary! At thy altar A thousand hearts lie p.r.o.ne, In this drear life of shadows They yearn for thee alone.

All hoping to recover From life's distress and smart, If thou, oh holy Mother, Wilt take them to thy heart.

He idolised his fiancee, who died young. ”Her memory shall be my better self, a sacred image in my heart before which a sanctuary lamp is ever burning, and which will save me from the temptations of the Evil One.”

And through the mouth of Heinrich of Ofterdingen he proclaims: ”My beloved is the abbreviation of the universe; the universe is the elongation of my beloved.” ”Heaven has given you to me to wors.h.i.+p. I adore you, you are a saint, you are divine glory, you are eternal life!”

This sentimental wors.h.i.+p of woman, combined with an all-transcending insatiable sensuousness, produced the peculiar s.e.xually-mystic world-feeling which is so characteristic of him. Night deeply moves his soul, longing, the memory of the beloved woman, adoration for the Virgin, his fantastic conception of an incarnated universe are fused into one great emotion:

Praise to the Queen of the World!

The lofty herald Of the sacred world.

The patroness Of rapturous love!

Thou art coming, beloved-- Night has descended-- My soul is ravished-- Over is this earthly journey And thou art mine again.

I gaze into thy dark, deep eyes, And see naught but love and happiness.

We sink down on the altar of the night, The soft couch-- The veil falls, And kindled by the rapturous embrace, Glows the pure fire Of the sweet sacrifice.

The climax and unique example of sensuousness, unsurpa.s.sed for its symbols of the physical embrace, is the hymn: ”Few know the Secret of Love.” It is too long to give in full. The following are a few stanzas:

Would that the ocean Blushed!

And in fragrant flesh Melted the rock!

Infinite is the sweet repast, Never satisfied is love; Nor close, nor fast enough Can it hold the beloved.

By ever more tender lips Transformed, the past ecstasy Grows closer, more intimate.

Rapturous love Thrills the soul; Hungrier and thirstier Grows the heart.

And thus the transports of love Endure for ever.

Here the remotest limit has been reached--sensuousness seems to flow into eternity, voluptuousness would shatter the world to pieces and create a new relations.h.i.+p of things. Before this poem all ecstasies of sensuousness masquerading as cosmic emotion are dull and timid. The transcendent symbols of Catholicism are used to guide the insatiable sensuous imagination to metaphysics. ”Who can say that he understands the nature of blood?” Novalis may ask this question. It is truly blood, human blood, longing to gush forth and pulsate through the body of the universe.

In time to come all will be body One body; In celestial blood, Float the enraptured twain.

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