When the World Shook: Being an Account of the Great Adventure of Bastin, Bickley and Arbuthnot — John Shaqi
When the World Shook: Being an Account of the Great Adventure of Bastin, Bickley and ArbuthnotHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Science
When the World Shook: Being an Account of the Great Adventure of Bastin, Bickley and Arbuthnot
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Adventure stories; Science fiction
No, I will make an exception, the East did interest me enormously.
There it was, at Benares, that I came into touch with certain thinkers
who opened my eyes to a great deal. They released some hidden spring in
my nature which hitherto had always been striving to break through the
crust of our conventions and inherited ideas. I know now that what I
was seeking was nothing less than the Infinite; that I had “immortal
longings in me.” I listened to all their solemn talk of epochs and
years measureless to man, and reflected with a thrill that after all
man might have his part in every one of them. Yes, that bird of passage
as he seemed to be, flying out of darkness into darkness, still he
might have spread his wings in the light of other suns millions upon
millions of years ago, and might still spread them, grown radiant and
glorious, millions upon millions of years hence in a time unborn.
If only I could know the truth. Was Life (according to Bickley) merely
a short activity bounded by nothingness before and behind; or
(according to Bastin) a conventional golden-harped and haloed
immortality, a word of which he did not in the least understand the
meaning?
Or was it something quite different from either of these, something
vast and splendid beyond the reach of vision, something God-sent,
beginning and ending in the Eternal Absolute and at last partaking of
His attributes and nature and from aeon to aeon shot through with His
light? And how was the truth to be learned? I asked my Eastern friends,
and they talked vaguely of long ascetic preparation, of years upon
years of learning, from whom I could not quite discover. I was sure it
could not be from them, because clearly they did not know; they only
passed on what they had heard elsewhere, when or how they either could
not or would not explain. So at length I gave it up, having satisfied
myself that all this was but an effort of Oriental imagination called
into life by the sweet influences of the Eastern stars.
I gave it up and went away, thinking that I should forget. But I did
not forget. I was quick with a new hope, or at any rate with a new
aspiration, and that secret child of holy desire grew and grew within
my soul, till at length it flashed upon me that this soul of mine was
itself the hidden Master from which I must learn my lesson. No wonder
that those Eastern friends could not give his name, seeing that
whatever they really knew, as distinguished from what they had heard,
and it was little enough, each of them had learned from the teaching of
his own soul.
Thus, then, I too became a dreamer with only one longing, the longing
for wisdom, for that spirit touch which should open my eyes and enable
me to see.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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