CHAPTER XLVI. THE CITY

Lona and I, who walked below, heard at last a great shout overhead, and

in a moment or two the Little Ones began to come dropping down from the

foliage with the news that, climbing to the top of a tree yet taller

than the rest, they had descried, far across the plain, a curious

something on the side of a solitary mountain--which mountain, they said,

rose and rose, until the sky gathered thick to keep it down, and knocked

its top off.

“It may be a city,” they said, “but it is not at all like Bulika.”

I went up to look, and saw a great city, ascending into blue clouds,

where I could not distinguish mountain from sky and cloud, or rocks from

dwellings. Cloud and mountain and sky, palace and precipice mingled in a

seeming chaos of broken shadow and shine.

I descended, the Little Ones came with me, and together we sped on

faster. They grew yet merrier as they went, leading the way, and never

looking behind them. The river grew lovelier and lovelier, until I knew

that never before had I seen real water. Nothing in this world is more

than LIKE it.

By and by we could from the plain see the city among the blue clouds.

But other clouds were gathering around a lofty tower--or was it a

rock?--that stood above the city, nearer the crest of the mountain.

Gray, and dark gray, and purple, they writhed in confused, contrariant

motions, and tossed up a vaporous foam, while spots in them gyrated like

whirlpools. At length issued a dazzling flash, which seemed for a

moment to play about the Little Ones in front of us. Blinding darkness

followed, but through it we heard their voices, low with delight.

“Did you see?”

“I saw.”

“What did you see?”

“The beautifullest man.”

“I heard him speak!”

“I didn’t: what did he say?”

Here answered the smallest and most childish of the voices--that of

Luva:--

“He said, ‘’Ou’s all mine’s, ‘ickle ones: come along!’”

I had seen the lightning, but heard no words; Lona saw and heard with

the children. A second flash came, and my eyes, though not my ears,

were opened. The great quivering light was compact of angel-faces. They

lamped themselves visible, and vanished.

A third flash came; its substance and radiance were human.

“I see my mother!” I cried.

“I see lots o’ mothers!” said Luva.

Once more the cloud flashed--all kinds of creatures--horses and

elephants, lions and dogs--oh, such beasts! And such birds!--great birds

whose wings gleamed singly every colour gathered in sunset or rainbow!

little birds whose feathers sparkled as with all the precious stones

of the hoarding earth!--silvery cranes; red flamingoes; opal pigeons;

peacocks gorgeous in gold and green and blue; jewelly humming

birds!--great-winged butterflies; lithe-volumed creeping things--all in

one heavenly flash!

“I see that serpents grow birds here, as caterpillars used to grow

butterflies!” remarked Lona.

“I saw my white pony, that died when I was a child.--I needn’t have been

so sorry; I should just have waited!” I said.

Thunder, clap or roll, there had been none. And now came a sweet rain,

filling the atmosphere with a caressing coolness. We breathed deep, and

stepped out with stronger strides. The falling drops flashed the colours

of all the waked up gems of the earth, and a mighty rainbow spanned the

city.

The blue clouds gathered thicker; the rain fell in torrents; the

children exulted and ran; it was all we could do to keep them in sight.

With silent, radiant roll, the river swept onward, filling to the margin

its smooth, soft, yielding channel. For, instead of rock or shingle or

sand, it flowed over grass in which grew primroses and daisies, crocuses

and narcissi, pimpernels and anemones, a starry multitude, large and

bright through the brilliant water. The river had gathered no turbid

cloudiness from the rain, not even a tinge of yellow or brown; the

delicate mass shone with the pale berylline gleam that ascended from its

deep, dainty bed.

Drawing nearer to the mountain, we saw that the river came from its very

peak, and rushed in full volume through the main street of the city.

It descended to the gate by a stair of deep and wide steps, mingled of

porphyry and serpentine, which continued to the foot of the mountain.

There arriving we found shallower steps on both banks, leading up to

the gate, and along the ascending street. Without the briefest halt, the

Little Ones ran straight up the stair to the gate, which stood open.

Outside, on the landing, sat the portress, a woman-angel of dark visage,

leaning her shadowed brow on her idle hand. The children rushed upon

her, covering her with caresses, and ere she understood, they had taken

heaven by surprise, and were already in the city, still mounting the

stair by the side of the descending torrent. A great angel, attended

by a company of shining ones, came down to meet and receive them, but

merrily evading them all, up still they ran. In merry dance, however,

a group of woman-angels descended upon them, and in a moment they were

fettered in heavenly arms. The radiants carried them away, and I saw

them no more.

“Ah!” said the mighty angel, continuing his descent to meet us who were

now almost at the gate and within hearing of his words, “this is well!

these are soldiers to take heaven itself by storm!--I hear of a horde of

black bats on the frontiers: these will make short work with such!”

Seeing the horse and the elephants clambering up behind us--

“Take those animals to the royal stables,” he added; “there tend them;

then turn them into the king’s forest.”

“Welcome home!” he said to us, bending low with the sweetest smile.

Immediately he turned and led the way higher. The scales of his armour

flashed like flakes of lightning.

Thought cannot form itself to tell what I felt, thus received by the

officers of heaven***. All I wanted and knew not, must be on its way to

me!

We stood for a moment at the gate whence issued roaring the radiant

river. I know not whence came the stones that fashioned it, but among

them I saw the prototypes of all the gems I had loved on earth--far more

beautiful than they, for these were living stones--such in which I saw,

not the intent alone, but the intender too; not the idea alone, but the

imbodier present, the operant outsender: nothing in this kingdom was

dead; nothing was mere; nothing only a thing.

We went up through the city and passed out. There was no wall on the

upper side, but a huge pile of broken rocks, upsloping like the moraine

of an eternal glacier; and through the openings between the rocks, the

river came billowing out. On their top I could dimly discern what seemed

three or four great steps of a stair, disappearing in a cloud white as

snow; and above the steps I saw, but with my mind’s eye only, as it were

a grand old chair, the throne of the Ancient of Days. Over and under and

between those steps issued, plenteously, unceasingly new-born, the river

of the water of life.

The great angel could guide us no farther: those rocks we must ascend

alone!

My heart beating with hope and desire, I held faster the hand of my

Lona, and we began to climb; but soon we let each other go, to use hands

as well as feet in the toilsome ascent of the huge stones. At length

we drew near the cloud, which hung down the steps like the borders of a

garment, passed through the fringe, and entered the deep folds. A hand,

warm and strong, laid hold of mine, and drew me to a little door with a

golden lock. The door opened; the hand let mine go, and pushed me gently

through. I turned quickly, and saw the board of a large book in the act

of closing behind me. I stood alone in my library.