“The woman’s spirit kindles man’s desire,And both are burned up by a quenchless fire.Let but the woman set her spirit free,Then it is man’s unto eternity.It is a world within his hands, and thereThey two may dwell encircled in a square.”
“The woman’s spirit kindles man’s desire,And both are burned up by a quenchless fire.Let but the woman set her spirit free,Then it is man’s unto eternity.It is a world within his hands, and thereThey two may dwell encircled in a square.”
“The woman’s spirit kindles man’s desire,
And both are burned up by a quenchless fire.
Let but the woman set her spirit free,
Then it is man’s unto eternity.
It is a world within his hands, and there
They two may dwell encircled in a square.”
I could never quite make sense of it, but it seized my imagination as nonsense sometimes will, and prepared it for the convulsion which was to happen.
This was the saying:
“There will come one after me who shall build where I have destroyed, and he shall capture the flame wherewith I have burned away the dying thoughts of men.”
The words haunted me. They were in none of the Christmas books, nor in the biography. I inserted it in the Concordance and in a new edition of the Speeches, on my own responsibility and without saying a word to my employers. There might or might not be trouble, but I knew that the Chairwoman of the Governing Committee was a vain old creature and would take the words to mean herself. To my mind they pointed straight to Edmund. I knew that his cause was gaining ground and that, if I could gain sufficient publicity for the saying, his following would be vastly increased.
I was on good terms with the chief of the publishing department and was able to persuade her to announce that the new edition of the Speeches was theonly one authorised by the Governing Committee; all others to be called in. The success of my trick exceeded all my dreams. There was something like an exodus from the capital.
I met my dear Audrey one day. She had come to spy out the land. Her news was glorious. For miles round the once ruined city the farms were occupied with happy men and women working together to supply food for the towns, which in return furnished their wants from its workshops, which the toilers filled with song as they worked. The fame of it was everywhere growing. Other ruined cities had been occupied. Two of the great nunneries were deserted. Edmund with a great company of young men had taken possession of a town by the sea and opened the harbour and released the ships.
“Ships!” I said. “There are ships sailing on the sea!”
That settled it. No more men of genius for me. That night I spent in chalking up the saying of William Christmas on the walls of the capital. The next morning I was with Audrey wandering about the streets, hearing Edmund’s name on all lips, and then, satisfied that all would be well, I made for the sea-board.
It was good to see America again, but I suffered there as acutely as I had done in Fatland. I had been among women who, if misguided, were free.My dear wife and I could never understand one another and she died within a very few years after my return of a broken heart. I thought I could not survive her, and should not have done but for my fortunate encounter with Hohlenheim, who could understand my loathing of woman in Fatland, of man in America, draw it up into his own matchless imagination and distil the passion of it into beauty.