In the of the week Lucian again visited Caermaen. He to view the more precisely, to note the exact position of the walls, to up the from points the town, to and on his mind the of the about the city, and the dark of the woods. And he in the where the of the Roman had been stored; he was in the of floors, in the gold of cups, the of and glass, the amber-work, the scent-flagons that still the memory of odors, the necklaces, brooches, hair-pins of gold and silver, and other objects which had once to Roman ladies. One of the flagons, in earth for many hundred years, had in its dark all the of the light, and now like an with a moonlight and of gold and green, and purple. Then there were the of red earthenware, the from graves, and the of gods, with of used in the of Mithras. Lucian read on the where all these objects were found: in the churchyard, the of the meadow, and in the old near the forest; and it was possible he would make his way to the spot of discovery, and the long that had gold and and amber. All these were necessary for the he had in view, so he for some time a familiar in the and in the by the river. His visits to Caermaen were a puzzle to the inhabitants, who to their at the of a step on the pavements. They were at a in their conjectures; his for three times a week must of be bad, but it undiscoverable. And Lucian on his was at a good put out by occasional with members of the Gervase or Dixon or Colley tribes; he had often to stop and a expressions, and such meetings, as they were, and him. He was no longer or by of or by the of the people when they passed him on the road (his was a one and his terrible), but such were just as the of a was unpleasant, and the of his out of for the time. Then he had been by the of the boys and the little dog; the of it had up his fancies. He had read books of modern occultism, and some of the described. The adept, it was alleged, transfer the of from his brain to the or hand, he the world around him and pass into another sphere. Lucian he not perform some such operation for his own benefit. Human beings were him and in his way, was it not possible to the race, or at all events to them to forms? A itself to his mind, a work and physical, and after two or three he to his and that it was successful. Here, he thought, he had one of the of true magic; this was the key to the of the Eastern tales. The could, in truth, those who were to him into and shapes, not as in the of the old stories, by the enemy, but by himself. The puts men him by going up higher, as one looks on a city from a crag. The on the road and such do not trouble the wise man on the great journey, and so Lucian, when to stop and with his fellow-creatures, to to their and inanities, was no more than when he had to climb an in the of a walk. As for the more of humanity; after all they no longer him. Men on the great purpose did not the of their to be by the of a in a spider's web, so why should he be by the of a in the hands of village boys? The fly, no doubt, its tortures; and in those bands, it out in its thin voice when the of the on it; but its had the of a lover. Lucian saw no why the boys should him more than the spider, or why he should the dog more than he the fly. The talk of the men and might be and and often malignant; but he not an at the moment of success, a in the hour of victory, or a with a of well on the market being by the of insects. The is, no doubt, a very terrible with a mouth and tiger-like when through the microscope; but Lucian had taken away the from his eyes. He now walk the of Caermaen and secure, without any of interruption, for at a moment's notice the be effected. Once Dr. Burrows him and him promise to a that was to be in of the Hungarian Protestants; Lucian the more as he to pay a visit to on a hill a little way out of the town, and he calculated on off from the early in the afternoon. Lord Beamys was visiting Sir Vivian Ponsonby, a local magnate, and had promised to drive over and the open. It was a moment when the up and the great man alighted. He was an evil-looking old nobleman, but the and gentry, their and sons and him with great and joy. Conversations were off in mid-sentence, slow people gaped, not why their friends had so left them, the Meyricks came up and in they should be too late, Miss Colley, a yellow of regard, largely, Mrs. Dixon with her to the "girls" who were in a part of the field, and the ran at full speed. The air dark with bows, and with the laugh of the archdeacon, the of the ladies, and the parrot-like voices of the matrons; those who had before, and on some there that look of with which the old their angels. Then, when all the had been performed, the company and to walk the of their small Vanity Fair. Lord Beamys the way with Mrs. Gervase, Mrs. Dixon with Sir Vivian Ponsonby, and the that cried, saying, "What a dear old man!"—"Isn't it of him to come all this way?"—"What a sweet expression, isn't it?"—"I think he's an old love"—"One of the good old sort"—"Real English nobleman"—"Oh most correct, I you; if a girl into trouble, notice to at once"—"Always by the Church"—"Twenty in his gift"—"Voted for the Public Worship Regulation Act"—"Ten thousand preserved." The old lord was and to himself: "Some here. Like the looks of that with the pink hat. Ought to see more of her. She'd give Lotty points."
The slowly across the grass: the had got of Mr. Dixon, and they were the of some in the deanery.
"I can it," said Mr. Dixon.
"Oh, I you, there can be no doubt. We have witnesses. There can be no question that there was a at Llanfihangel on the Sunday Easter; the and minister the church, in their hands."
"Very shocking."
"It has the bishop. Martin is a hard-working man enough, and all that, but those of can't be tolerated. The told me that he had set his against processions."
"Quite right: the is perfectly right. Processions are unscriptural."
"It's the thin end of the wedge, you know, Dixon."
"Exactly. I have always anything of the here."
"Right. Principiis obsta, you know. Martin is so imprudent.
There's a way of doing things."
The "scriptural" by Lord Beamys up when the were reached, and the as he the open.
Lucian was on a garden-seat, a little off, looking him. And all that he saw was a of and about a of meat that on the grass. The in no way the of his thoughts, and soon after the opening of the he away, walking across the in the direction of the he to inspect.
All these of his to Caermaen and its neighborhood had a object; he was to the the of modern times, and the and city of Siluria. All this town was for the of his and himself; for her the villas, the courts, the magic of pavements, and the of rich with their and patterns. Lucian all day through the streets, taking sometimes in the gardens the and trees, and to the and of the fountains. Sometimes he would look out of a window and watch the and color of the market-place, and now and again a ship came up the river and the of unknown lands in the Far East. He had a and map of the town he to inhabit, in which every was set and named. He his lines to with the of a surveyor, and the plan till he was able to his way from house to house on the night. On the southern about the town there were vineyards, always under a sun, and sometimes he to the of the forest, where the wild people still lingered, that he might catch the of the city away, as the light and on the tiles. And there were gardens the city gates where and flowers grew, the air with their odor, and the that along the streets. The modern life was away, and people who saw him at this period what was amiss; the of his was obvious, to not over-sharp. But men and had all their power of and vexation; they no longer his for a moment. He to Mr. Dixon with attention, while he was in by the music of the flute, played by a girl in the garden of Avallaunius, for that was the name he had taken. Mr. Dixon was archeology, a résumé of the view by Mr. Wyndham at the last meeting of the society.
"There can be no that the temple of Diana there in times," he concluded, and Lucian to the opinion, and asked a questions which enough. But all the time the notes were in his ears, and the a on the white his villa. A boy came from the garden; he had been walking the and the grapes, and the juice had over his breast. Standing the girl, in the sunlight, he to sing one of Sappho's love songs. His voice was as full and rich as a woman's, but of all emotion; he was an of music in the flesh. Lucian looked at him steadily; the white perfect against the roses and the of the sky, clear and as marble in the of the sun. The he sang and with passion, and he was as of their meaning as the pipes of the flute. And the girl was smiling. The hands and on, well pleased with his on the temple of Diana, and also with Lucian's interest.
"He is by no means wanting in intelligence," he said to his family. "A little in manner, perhaps, but not stupid."
"Oh, papa," said Henrietta, "don't you think he is silly? He can't talk about anything—anything interesting, I mean. And he to know a about books, but I him say the other day he had read The Prince of the House of David or Ben-Hur. Fancy!"
The had not Lucian. The sun still upon the roses, and a little the of them to his together with the of and vine-leaves. He had in sensation, and as he upon the with yellow silk, he was trying to a in the perfume of the air. He had the of modern times, the rough: "there's a of roses," "there must be somewhere." Modern of odor were, he knew, those of the in delicacy. The black of Australia in a way that the consumer of "damper" in amazement, but the savage's were all utilitarian. To Lucian as he sat in the porch, his on the marble, the air came with as and and as the of a great master. The marble of the gave a of the Italian mountain, the blood-red roses in the sent out an odor as itself, and there was the hint of in the perfume of the vines. Besides these, the girl's and the of the boy were as as and myrrh, and exquisite, and as as the of the roses. But there was another that puzzled him, an of the forest. He it at last; it was the of the great red that the garden; their were in the sun, and the was as as the of from far. The soft of the and the of the boy's voice on the air together, and Lucian there were in the nature of any true the of and and color. The of the sky, the song, and the of one than entities. He almost that the boy's was a perfume, and that the roses had a chant.
In the which the last notes, when the boy and girl had passed under the shadow, he into a reverie. The that are and not in his mind, and him to as to they not actually be one into another. It was possible, he thought, that a whole of knowledge had been undiscovered; the of men having been in and directions. Modern had been on such as engines, electric cables, and bridges; on for people nearer together; the had been almost as foolish, they had the symbol for the thing signified. It was not the material which mattered, but the of it; it was almost as to eat and take and eat again as to and high-pressure boilers. As for some other methods of life, one might as well set to at once.
"Only in the garden of Avallaunius," said Lucian to himself, "is the true and science to be found."
He a man who was able to live in one while he pleased; to whom, for example, every of touch, taste, hearing, or should be into odor; who at the should be with the of dark violets, to music should be the perfume of a rose-garden at dawn.
When, now and again, he the of common life, it was that he might return with to the garden in the city of refuge. In the world the talk was of Nonconformists, the franchise, and the Stock Exchange; people were reading newspapers, Australian Burgundy, and doing other absurd. They either looked when the art of was mentioned, or it with going to comedies, whisky, and late hours in and company. He to his that the were by many than the pious, but that the most of all were the who promiscuity, and called their of "pigging" the "New Morality."
He to the city lovingly, it was and for his love. As the on the of the as the of all thought, so he that it was she in he had himself, and through and for all the true life existed. He that Annie had him the magic which had the garden of Avallaunius. It was for her that he and to the of sensation, for he only give her and a life, and a with the of his worship.
It was with this object, that of making the of himself a one, that he for new and experiences. He lovers come him and their secrets; he into the of and shame, how and together for the mastery. In the he sometimes in which such as Daphnis and Chloe and The Golden Ass were performed him. These were always at nighttime; a circle of torch-bearers the stage in the center, and above, all the of seats were dark. He would look up at the soft of the sky, and at the like a cloud in the west, and then at the by a light, and with shadows. The of in a language from bench after bench, of explanation, now and then a or a as the deepened, the of the people as the end near, an arm lifted, a back, the of a up or white or the of gold in the black ranks; these were that always amazing. And above, the light of the stars, around, the sweet-scented meadows, and the of from the still city, the of the about the walls, the wash of the the river, and the salt of the sea. With such a ornament he saw the of Apuleius represented, the names of Fotis and Byrrhaena and Lucius proclaimed, and the of such as Ecce Veneris et Liber ultro. The on through all its adventures, and Lucian left the and walked the river where he the noise of voices and the Latin, and note how the of the stage with the of the and the of the tide. Then came the of the cantor, the of applause, the crash of cymbals, the calling of the flutes, and the of the wind in the great dark wood.
At other times it was his to a whole day in a planted on the the bridge. A seat had been a laurel, and here he often sat without motion or for many hours. Below him the river the town in a circle; he see the of the yellow water, its and whirlpools, as the up from the south. And the river the of the walls, and within, the city like a piece of mosaic. He himself from the modern view of as places where beings live and make money and or suffer, for from the of the moment such were impertinent. He perfectly well that for his present purpose the and of the was the only of about the river, and so he the city as a work in jewelry. Its marble porticoes, the white of the villas, a of copper, the and of roofs, the red of brickwork, dark of ilex, and cypress, and laurel, rose-gardens, and here and there the of a fountain, and with a art, and the town appeared a ornament, every of color its place to the and of the artificer. Lucian, as he from his the vines, none of the of the sight; every of color, he let his for a moment on the of poppies, and then on a which in the of the sun to white fire. A square of was like some green stone; the were so the leaves, that from off there was a of and of through the green. The were like jade; the gardens, where red, yellow, and white together in a of heat, had the of opal; the river was a of gold. On every side, as if to the of the city, the dark on the hills; above, the sky was violet, with minute clouds, white as snowflakes. It him of a bowl in his villa; the ground was of that same blue, and the artist had into the work, when it was hot, of pure white glass.
For Lucian this was a that many hours; on one hand, he would at the city in the till the the and the long for the watch. Then, as he the trellises, he would see all the out, and the city into haze, a white here and there, and the gardens in a of color. On such an he would go home with the that he had a day, having for many hours the most of color.
Often he the night in the of his villa, soft upon the marble bench. A lamp on the table at his elbow, its light making the water in the twinkle. There was no in the the soft of the fountain. Throughout these still hours he would meditate, and he more than that man could, if he pleased, lord of his own sensations. This, surely, was the true meaning under the of alchemy. Some years he had read many of the books of the later Middle Ages, and had that something other than the of lead into gold was intended. This was when he looked into Lumen de Lumine by Vaughan, the of the Silurist, and he had long puzzled himself in the to a of the mystery, and of the red powder, "glistening and in the sun." And the out at last, and amazing, as he in the of Avallaunius. He that he himself had solved the riddle, that he in his hand the of projection, the philosopher's all it touched to gold; the gold of impressions. He now something of the symbolism; the and the furnace, the "Green Dragon," and the "Son Blessed of the Fire" had, he saw, a meaning. He understood, too, why the were of the terror and through which they must pass; and the with which the all for material no longer him as singular. The wise man not the of the in order that he may be able to with in and company promoters; neither a steam yacht, a grouse-moor, three would add at all to his gratifications. Again Lucian said to himself:
"Only in the of Avallaunius is the true science of the to be found."
He saw the true gold into which the of may be by art; a of moments, all the of life concentrated, of their lees, and in a vessel. The moonlight green on the and on the pavements, and in the long sweet of the night he still and that itself was an pleasure, to be in terms of odor or color by the true artist.
And he gave himself other and gratifications. Outside the city walls, the and the amphitheatre, was a tavern, a place where people met to drink wine. There he saw of Mithras and Isis and of more from the East, men who of colours, and ornaments, things. They spoke themselves in a rich of words, full of and the of to the uninitiated, to what was roses, and calling each other by names. And there were actors who gave the in the amphitheatre, officers of the who had in wild places, singers, and dancing girls, and of adventure.
The of the were with pictures painted in hues; and and against one another and up the of the place. The benches were always crowded, the came in through the door in a long beam, a dancing of on the wall. There a painter had a of the Bacchus the him with his ivy-staff, and the a part of the picture. The room was and dark and cavernous, but the and of the in through the open door. There was a full sound, with noise and vehemence, there, and the music of the Latin ceased.
"The of the siege, the that we saved," one.
"Look for the marked Faunus; you will be glad."
"Bring me the of the Owl's Face."
"Let us have the of Saturn's Bridge."
The boys who the in red that a note against their white robes. They out the and and with sweet as if they were in the mysteries, without any that they the that from to side. The cups were all of glass; some were of green, of the color of the sea near the land, and with the of the furnace. Others were of scarlet, with of white, and having the of white in the stem. There were cups of dark blue, and more than the of the sky, and through the of the were of rich yellow, from the to the foot. Some cups were of a and red, with of dark and light, some were with white and yellow stains, some a of colours, some glittered, with gold through the clear crystal, some were as if in water, some with the of stars, some were black and like tortoiseshell.
A was the and motion of hands and arms. Gesture a on speech; white fingers, arms, and of all colours, restlessly, appeared and with an of and re-crossing on the loom. And the odor of the place was and memorable; something of the cold of the meeting the blast of summer, the of as they and into the cups, the of the East that the of Mithras and Isis from their temples; these were always and dominant. And the were scented, sometimes with and perfumes, and to the artist the of those present were in and of odor.
They their and all day in the tavern. The their white arms about their lover's necks, they them with the of their hair, the their of Theurgy. And through the of voices there always the ring of the cry:
"Look for the marked Faunus; you will be glad."
Outside, the on the white in the sunshine; the up from the yellow river, with the salt sea savor.
These were often the of Lucian's as he sat the on the marble seat. The rich of the voices him above all things, and he saw that have a higher than the office of a man's thought. The common that language and are only as a means of he a little ridiculous; as if electricity were to be with the view of "wiring" to people, and all its other properties left unexplored, neglected. Language, he understood, was for the of its sounds, by its of resonant, to the ear, by its capacity, when arranged, of and impressions, more and from the of than the by music itself. Here the of the art of literature; it was the of suggestion, the art of by the use of words. In a way, therefore, was of thought; the English listener, if he had an ear attuned, the of a Latin phrase.
Here was the of the magic of Lycidas. From the of the it was an over some and Mr. King; it was full of nonsense about "shepherds" and "flocks" and "muses" and such stock of poetry; the of St Peter on a stage with and river gods was blasphemous, absurd, and, in the taste; there were touches of Puritanism, the of the was only too apparent. And Lycidas was the most perfect piece of pure in existence; every word and phrase and line were sonorous, and with music.
"Literature," he re-enunciated in his mind, "is the art of by means of words."
And yet there was something more; the logical thought, which was often a hindrance, a though accident, the sensation, always a and a delight, these there were the images which all to the mind. As the in his is sometimes to unknown, in the or the receiver, as the world of material is by some a thin of the universe, so he who reads or is of that cannot be put into words, which do not from the logical sense, which are to than with the delight. The world so is the world of dreams, the world in which children sometimes live, appearing, and away, a world all or analysis, neither of the of the senses. He called these of his "Meditations of a Tavern," and was to think that a of should have from the noise that all day about the and wine.
"Let us for more things," said Lucian to himself. He almost the magic of the accomplished, the was an odor in his nostrils; it on the white marble and the roses like a flood. The sky was a blue, making the joyous, and the in the dark green and of the ilex. The earth to and the sun, he he see the and in the heat, and the of the was across the garden to the seat the porch. Wine was him in a cup of amber; a of the color of a dark rose, with a as of a star or of a of the brim; and the cup was about with a of ivy. He was often to turn away from the still of such things, from the of the sun, and the earth. He loved his garden and the view of the city from the on the hill, the of the tavern, and white Fotis appearing on the torch-lit stage. And there were shops in the town in which he delighted, the shops of the perfume makers, and jewelers, and in ware. He loved to see all for ladies' use, to touch the that were to touch their bodies, to the of and the gold which would above their hearts, to the and brooches, to which were already to love.
But though these were sweet and gratifications, he that there were more of which he might be a spectator. He had the of from the of the logical intellect, and he now to question the of looking at life as if it were a representation. Literature, he knew, not without some meaning, and of right and were to a from the of life, but to on as the of the was surely absurd. One might as well read Lycidas for the of its of "our Clergy," or Homer for "manners and customs." An artist by a did not himself with the of the hills, did the lover of a wild sea as to the chemical analysis of the water. Lucian saw a and life him, and he sat at the spectacle, not to know were good or bad, but if they were curious.
In this he a study of corruption. Beneath his feet, as he sat in the garden porch, was a of marble through which there ran a stain. It with a line, thin as a hair, and as it advanced, sending out to right and left, and to a of red. There were into which he looked that were like the of marble; with sweet told him the of their adventures, and how, they said, they had met the when they were little children. They told him how they had played and by the and the fountains, and with the nymphs, and at images in the water pools, till the appeared from the wood. He others tell how they had loved the for many years they their race; and there were of those who had to speak but not the word of the enigma, and in all paths and they it.
He the history of the woman who in love with her slave-boy, and him for three years in vain. He the from the woman's full red lips, and her face, full of the of lust, as she her in phrases. She was a sweet yellow from a gold cup as she spoke, and the odor in her and the of the to with the soft that like an from a jar. She told how she the boy in the market of an Asian city, and had him to her house in the of fig-trees. "Then," she on, "he was into my presence as I sat the of my court. A was spread above to out the of the sun, and than light on the painted walls, and the of the pavement, and the images of Love and the Mother of Love. The men who the boy gave him over to my girls, who him me, one away his robe, another his and hair, another the of his limbs, and another him, and speaking in his hear. But the boy looked at them all, away their hands, and with his and lips, and I saw a blush, like the of dawn, his and his cheeks. Then I them him, and him with oils from to foot, till his and with the and of an statue. Then I said: 'You are bashful, you alone us all; see, we too will be your fellows.' The girls of all, and one another, and doing for each other the offices of waiting-maids. They out the and the of their hair, and I that they were so lovely. The soft and down, like sea-waves; some had and as this in my cup, the of others appeared the of ebony; there were that of and copper, some with of splendor, and others were with the of the sardonyx. Then, laughing, and without the of shame, they the and which their robes, and so allowed and to to the floor, so that one would have said there was a of the nymphs. With many and they to each other to mirth, the that on every side, and calling the boy by a girl's name, they him to be their playmate. But he refused, his head, and still dumb-founded and abashed, as if he saw a and terrible spectacle. Then I ordered the to my and my clothes, making them me with the of the lover, but without avail, for the boy still and out his lips, with an and scarlet."
She out more of the topaz-colored in her cup, and Lucian saw it as it rose to the and the of the lamps. The on, a hundred devices. The woman told how she had the boy by and ease, him long hours of sleep, and him to all day on soft cushions, that about him, his body. She the of odors: him to always about him the oil of roses, and in his presence from the East. He was by soft dresses, being in that the skin with the of a touch. Three times a day they spread him a banquet, full of and odor and color; three times a day they to him with wine.
"And so," the lady continued, "I nothing to catch him in the of love; taking only and in return. And at last in an shape I the victory, and then, having a green crown, in against his green and immaturity, I him to the theatre, where he the people by the of his death."
On another he the history of the man who alone, all allurements, and was at last to be the lover of a black statue. And there were of cruelties, of men taken by robbers, and and disfigured, so that when they and returned to the town, they were to be and killed at their own doors. Lucian left no dark or of life unvisited; he sat down, as he said, at the banquet, to taste all the savors, and to no unvisited.
His relations about him at this period. While he with some ear the and phrases of tales, and the lamp-light in and wine, his father saw a boy, with black that in hollows, and sad and cheeks.
"You ought to try and eat more, Lucian," said the parson; "and why don't you have some beer?"
He was looking at the mutton and a little water; but he would not have or with more if the meat and drink had been him.
His seemed, as Miss Deacon said, to be through his skin; he had all the of an has been to by long and penance. People who to see him not help saying to one another: "How and that Lucian Taylor looks!" They were of of the and luxury in which his life was spent, and some of them to him, and to speak to him kindly.
It was too late for that. The had as much their meaning as the of contempt. Edward Dixon him in the one day:
"Come in to my den, won't you, old fellow?" he said. "You won't see the pater. I've managed to a bottle of his old port. I know you like a furnace, and I've got some cigars. You will come, won't you! I can tell you the pater's is rate."
He and on. Kindness and unkindness, and had for him phrases; he not have one from the other. Hebrew and Chinese, Hungarian and Pushtu would be much to an laborer; if he to he might some in sound, but all four would be of significance.
To Lucian, in the garden of Avallaunius, it very that he had once been so of all the of life. Now, the sky, looking through the of the vines, he saw the picture; before, he had in sad at the which was about it.
