Flaxius: Leaves From the Life of an Immortal
9781465518255
418 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
Ages have passed away since Flaxius found himself one twilight in autumn in the wild Lombard land of Northern Italy. Towering far as eye could see, vast cliffs or mighty peaks sprang up like living forms, with precipiced sides falling gracefully as classic draperies; bold and strange and all unlike the rounded hills and undulating plains of other countries. Before him spread, as if into a steel-blue eternity, the shining Mediterranean; all about him seemed beautiful, cold, and strange as in a dream. The western sky was one even hue of rich, ripe orange turning into brown. Upon a distant headland rose an ancient tower, by which rested a vessel with one long, sloping sail. A chill stole o’er the whispering breeze, and the evening star shone gently forth. And standing there high upon the mountain, the mystic magian and undying one looked around among the rocks and said: ‘Here it was that the Fairy, who is so obliging as to rule my destiny, as yonder star is said to rule the heart, bade me come at dated day and hour to meet with one, whose acquaintance, as she assured me, would prove to be remarkably interesting. Truly with all my utmost stretch of thought, be it in levelled prose or rolling poetry, I can conjure up nothing personal here, or make any spiritual bread out of these stones, but then, ’tis only purblind ignorance which vows that all is nothing which it cannot see. Now, as there is no form near me, and as I can with sorcerer’s sight see for fifty miles adown, and all around the land and sea, I opine that he, the beloved personage, to keep the tryst must come here on the wings of thought far sweeping. Light of my Soul, I give thee half an hour!’ But as Flaxius made this last remark, he observed a Cypress plant, about six feet high, with leafage reaching to the ground, a furlong distant on a cliff, was evidently moving from its place towards him, and, as it moved, was growing human in its form. The head became distinct, the shoulders next, then the lower foliage unfolded in a long dark robe. Like all illuminati—such as you and I—Flaxius drew critical, philosophical deductions first, before examining vulgar details, in these words: ‘I wonder, now, whether the seeing saplings waving in the wind did not first suggest to man, ghosts? But this is really a Being. Fairy mine, I did not think that thou wouldst play a miracle on me! Thaumaturgy among us is really too bad. But perhaps,’ he added, ‘it is a fancy of the gentleman himself—habit becomes strict nature with us all.’ As the form drew near him, Flaxius recognised in the face and mien of the stranger, though it would not be apparent to the world, a Gymnosophist. So they were once termed, whom we should call Brahmins—that is, Indian sages. Evidently the stranger had come far astray into the Italian land. Now, as Flaxius had passed a century or two of his youth in company with his friend Pythagoras in study at the leading Indian universities, he understood the stranger at a glance. Therefore he addressed him familiarly in Romany, which is a cousin to Hindi, which is a grand-daughter to Sanskrit, and therefore all in the family and generally spoken: ‘Latcho divvus prala! Būt mishto hom dikàv tute!’ (‘Good day, brother! Right glad I am to see thee!’) But the stranger gravely replied in the mother of Sanskrit, or ancient Aryan of the Tertiary period: ‘I am of older race than thou hast deemed. I was among the fathers of those who first came into India from the far North, and I speak the tongue which is destined in its descendants to encircle the whole world. And thou, too, knowest it, Flaxius, as I know thee, for we have met ere now, long since, beyond the Ganges, though thou now speakest flippantly, like a mad college youth, in the language of the roads.
