It rose with an imperceptible
motion, as the Oceanides might have soared from the sea to comfort
Prometheus in the tragedy of AEschylus. Already the sun had touched its
upper edge with gold, and we were expecting to be enveloped in a mist;
when suddenly upon the outspread sheet before us there appeared two
forms, larger than life, yet not gigantic, surrounded with haloes of
such tempered iridescence as the moon half hidden by a summer cloud is
wont to make. They were the glorified figures of ourselves; and what
we did, the phantoms mocked, rising or bowing, or spreading wide their
arms. Some scarce-felt breeze prevented the vapour from passing across
the ridge to westward, though it still rose from beneath, and kept
fading away into thin air above our heads. Therefore the vision lasted
as long as the sun stayed yet above the Alps; and the images with
their aureoles shrank and dilated with the undulations of the mist.
I could not but think of that old formula for an anthropomorphic
Deity--'the Brocken-spectre of the human spirit projected on the mists
of the Non-ego.' Even like those cloud-phantoms are the gods made in
the image of man, who have been worshipped through successive ages of
the world, gods dowered with like passions to those of the races
who have crouched before them, gods cruel and malignant and lustful,
jealous and noble and just, radiant or gloomy, the counterparts of men
upon a vast and shadowy scale. But here another question rose.
Pages:
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165