A Constructive Survey of Upanishadic Philosophy c7.s5.1.7

c7.s5.1.7

boundless, for the faintest star, the remotest century, lies not even nearer the verge thereof : sounds and many-coloured visions flit round our sense; but Him, the Unslumbering, whose work both Dream and Dreamer are, we see not ; except in rare half-waking moments, suspect not. Creation, says one, lies before us, like a glorious Rainbow; but the Sun that made it lies behind us, hidden from us. Then, in that strange Dream, how we clutch at shadows as if they were substances; and sleep deepest while fancying ourselves most awake! . . . . . Where now is Alexander of Macedon? . . . . . Napoleon too, and his Moscow Retreats and Austerlitz campaigns! Was it all other than the veriest Spectre-hunt? . . . . . That warrior on his strong war-horse, fire flashes through his eyes; force dwells in his arm and heart: but warrior and war-horse are a vision; a revealed Force, nothing more. Stately they tread the Earth, as if it were a firm substance: fool! the Earth is but a film; it cracks in twain, and warrior and war-horse sink beyond plummet’s sounding, Plummet’s? Fantasy herself will not follow them. A little while ago, they were not; a little while, and they are not, their very ashes are not. . . . . . Thus, like a God-created, fire-breathing Spirit-host, we emerge from the Inane; haste stormfully across the astonished Earth; then plunge again into the Inane. . . . . . . . . . But whence?—O Heaven, whither? Sense knows not; Faith knows not;