{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_67732/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_67732","id":"gutenberg_67732","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67732","summary":null,"tags":["Brothers -- Fiction","Castaways -- Fiction","Category: American Literature","Category: Novels","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Islands -- Fiction","Musicians -- Fiction","Paranormal fiction","Solitude -- Fiction"],"text":"THE OVERMAN\n\n\n\n\nBY THE SAME AUTHOR\n\n                        The Industrial Republic\n                               The Jungle\n                               King Midas\n                                Manassas\n                              Prince Hagen\n                     The Journal of Arthur Stirling\n\n[Illustration: \u201c\u2018I HAD STEPPED OUT UPON THE SUMMIT, AND STOOD TRANSFIXED\nWITH THE GLORY OF AN ENDLESS VISION OF DAWN\u2019\u201d]\n\n\n\n\n                              The Overman\n\n\n                                   By\n                             UPTON SINCLAIR\n\n                          _WITH FRONTISPIECE_\n\n[Illustration]\n\n                                New York\n                       Doubleday, Page & Company\n                                  1907\n\n\n\n\n                   COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY UPTON SINCLAIR\n\n                          COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY\n                       DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY\n                       PUBLISHED, SEPTEMBER, 1907\n\nALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN\nLANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN\n\n\n\n\n                              THE OVERMAN\n\n\n\n\n                             _The Overman_\n\n\nThis is the story of Edward \u2014\u2014, as he told it to me only a few days\nbefore he died; he told it as he lay half paralysed, and knowing that\nthe hand of death was upon him.\n\n\nI am by profession a scientist. My story goes back some fifty years,\nwhen I was a student. I had one brother, Daniel, five years younger than\nmyself, a musician of extraordinary promise. We lived abroad together\nfor a number of years, each pursuing his own work. About my brother,\nsuffice it to say that music to him was everything\u2014love and friendship,\nambition and life. He was a man without a stain, whose lower nature had\nbeen burned out by the flame of art. I think the one tie that bound him\nto the world was myself.\n\nWhen Daniel was about twenty-three years of age, his health weakened,\nand a long sea voyage was decided upon. I could not go with him, so for\nthe first time we parted; and it was twenty years after that before I\never heard of him again.\n\nIt was believed that the ship had been wrecked in the South Seas; and I\nhad given him up for dead many years, when it chanced that, as a man\nadvanced in life, I was travelling as a naturalist in Ceylon, and met an\nold sailor who had been with my brother, and who told me a strange\nstory\u2014how one boat containing five men, including Daniel, had outlived\nthe storm and landed upon an uninhabited island; how, after remaining\nthere for several months, they had made up their minds to risk a voyage\nin their frail craft; and how my brother alone had refused, declaring\nhis intention to remain by himself, with his violin and the few effects\nthat he had saved.\n\nHow this affected me anyone can imagine. The tale was obviously a true\none, and I chanced to have means; and so, getting the best idea I could\nof the island\u2019s location, I purchased a yacht outright and prepared to\nmake a search.\n\nThe events immediately following bear only indirectly upon my story, and\nso I pass over them swiftly. We had been at sea for some three weeks,\nand were in the locality we sought, and watching day and night for some\nsign of the island, when late one evening the native captain of the\nvessel came to my cabin, trembling and pale with fright, to tell me that\nthe crew had mutinied and were about to murder me. I rushed to my chest\nfor my revolvers, only to find that every cartridge was gone; and the\nother\u2019s weapon proved to be in the same plight. In this desperate\nsituation the latter suggested what seemed to be the only possible\nexpedient\u2014that we should make our escape from the vessel in the\ndarkness, and trust to gaining the land. While he crept out to provision\nand lower a boat, I barricaded the cabin-door and waited; and upon\nhearing the whistle agreed on, I ran to a port-hole, and seeing the\nboat, slid into it. An instant later the rope was cut, and I got one\nglance at the leering countenance of my betrayer, before the ship sped\non and all was darkness. I was alone!\n\n\nThe emotions of that night I do not like to recall. Life was still dear\nto me. It was only when morning came that I lifted my head again and\nrecovered my self-possession.\n\nThere was no land in sight\u2014I was tossing upon a waste of water, and\nalready beginning to feel the first cravings of the fearful thirst that\nI knew must come. But by a strange instinct I still clung to my life;\nand soon a storm arose, and as the waves began to speed my frail boat\nalong, it rose upon one of them, and I suddenly caught sight of a faint\nstreak of land. I seized the oars and set to work to race for my life. I\nwas not used to the effort, and it took all my strength to keep the\ncraft headed aright, while the sea bore it on to its goal; I fought\ndesperately through the whole day, coming nearer and nearer to my hope,\nbut expecting every instant to be my last, and almost fainting with\nexhaustion. Finally I came to the very edge of the breakers\u2014and then, in\nspite of all that I could do, the boat was seized by a wave and whirled\naround.\n\nI saw before me a long line of bright green forest; and, standing upon\nthe beach in front of me, a single figure\u2014a man\u2014motionless and watching.\nThat moment a breaker smote my little craft, and I was flung into the\nboiling sea.\n\nI did not know how to swim. I clutched at the boat and missed it, and\nafter that I recall only an instant or two of frantic struggling and\nchoking. When next I opened my eyes, I lay upon the shore, with a man\nbending over me; and upon my dazed faculties was borne in the startling\ntruth that the man was my brother.\n\n\nIt would have been long before I recognised him but that he was calling\nme by name. A creature more changed no man could imagine. Gaunt,\nhollow-eyed, and wild in appearance, he was scarcely the shadow of his\nformer self; he was clad in a rough garment of fur, barefooted and\nbarearmed, and with long, tangled hair. But what most struck me\u2014what\nstruck me the instant I opened my eyes, and what never ceased to strike\nme after that\u2014was the strange, haunted look of his whole countenance;\nhis eyes, swift and restless, shone from beneath the shadow of his brows\nlike those of some forest animal.\n\nFor the first few dazed minutes I thought of what I had read of men who\nhad gone mad, or had reverted to the beast, under such circumstances as\nthese. Yet nothing could exceed the tenderness of my brother\u2019s voice and\nmanner to me; he bent over me with a gourd full of milk, which he helped\nme to drink, and he dried my face and brushed back the hair from my\nforehead, whispering to me as one might to a sick child.\n\nI can remember the very words of our conversation at that strange\nmoment, so keenly did every circumstance impress me. I answered him\nfaintly when he asked me how I did, and he pressed my hand. \u201cYou were\nseeking for me, brother?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cI was,\u201d I said.\n\n\u201cI sometimes thought that you might,\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cAlas! Alas!\u201d\n\nI had been overwhelmed with joy as the truth dawned upon me\u2014the truth\nthat I had found him. I had forgotten our mutual plight. \u201cNever mind,\u201d I\nwhispered. \u201cWe may get away somehow; and at least we can be together.\u201d\n\nHe answered nothing, but helped me lift my head.\n\n\u201cHow came you alone in that boat?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cIt is a long story,\u201d I replied, shuddering as I gazed at the waves that\nwere thundering on the beach before us. \u201cI will tell it later.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have been long upon the water?\u201d\n\n\u201cOnly since last night,\u201d I said; and then gazing about me suddenly, I\ncried: \u201cAnd you\u2014you have been here all these years!\u201d\n\n\u201cAll these years,\u201d he answered.\n\n\u201cAnd alone?\u201d\n\n\u201cAlone.\u201d\n\nI trembled as I gazed into his face; his eyes seemed fairly to burn.\n\n\u201cHow have you borne it?\u201d I cried. \u201cWhat have you done?\u201d\n\nHis answer made me start. \u201cI have done very well,\u201d he said; \u201cI have not\nbeen unhappy.\u201d\n\nThe words seemed strange to me\u2014but his voice was stranger yet. Surely\nthere were signs enough of unhappiness upon his face!\n\nHe seemed to read my thoughts. \u201cDo not worry,\u201d he went on, pressing his\nhand in mine; \u201cI will tell you all about it later.\u201d\n\nBut my mind could not be turned away so easily. When I felt stronger and\nsat up, I came back to the question, gazing at his haggard face and the\nstrange costume he wore.\n\n\u201cYou can make no better clothing?\u201d I cried; \u201cand for food\u2014what do you\ndo?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have all the food that I can eat,\u201d was the response, \u201cand everything\nelse that I need. You shall see.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut have you seen _no_ one?\u201d I persisted\u2014\u201cno ships, in all this time?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have not wished to see any,\u201d he said; and then he smiled gently as he\nsaw my stare of amazement. \u201cI have not wished for anything,\u201d he said\ngently; \u201cI have a home, as you shall see, and I have never needed\ncompany. Have you forgotten how it used to be, dear brother?\u201d\n\nIt took me a long time to understand his words. I was still gazing at\nhim helplessly. \u201cAnd you mean,\u201d I cried\u2014\u201cyou mean that you still\u2014you\nstill live in your music?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he said, \u201cI mean that.\u201d\n\nI was sitting upright and gripping his arm tightly. \u201cAnd for twenty\nyears!\u201d I gasped.\n\n\u201cTwenty thousand years would be all too little for music,\u201d was the\nreply.\n\nI sank back, and he wrapped his arms about me. \u201cDear brother,\u201d he said,\nsmiling, \u201clet us not go into that just now. Wait until to-morrow, at the\nleast. Perhaps I can help you now, and we can walk.\u201d\n\nWe had not far to go, and with his help I managed the task. Back from\nthe shore rose a high cliff, and a cavern in this was evidently his\nhome. At one side there was a pen, in which were three or four captive\ngoats; and upon the grassy lawn in front was a rough seat. With the\nexception of a fireplace, and a path he had cut through the thicket,\nthere were no other signs that the place was inhabited.\n\nI sank down upon the grass, and he brought me fresh water and fruits,\nand cooked rice, which I ate hungrily. Then, when I was stronger, I got\nup and began to examine his home.\n\nThe cave was the size of a large room; it was dry, but bare of all\nfurniture except a table and a roughly made chair and bed. My brother\u2019s\npossessions consisted mainly of a few objects (notably some tools) which\nhe and the sailors had been able to recover from the wreck of the ship.\nThere were a few skins which served him as bags in which to keep his\nprovisions; his bowls and dishes were gourds and the shells of turtles.\nHe was without artificial light, and he had only a few quires of\nwriting-paper from the ship-captain\u2019s portfolio. For the rest, a violin\nwithout strings, and a bow without hairs, made up a list of the\npossessions so far as I could make them out. And it was upon the\nstrength of these that he had said to me: \u201cI have everything that I\nneed!\u201d\n\nWith rest and food my strength returned, and before long my mind was\naltogether occupied with my brother.\n\nFirst of all, of course, my thought was of his home\u2014of his surroundings\nand his ways. I rummaged about his cavern, wondering at his\nmakeshifts\u2014or rather, at his lack of them.\n\n\u201cYou have no lamp?\u201d I cried. \u201cBut, Daniel, the wax-plant grows in this\nclimate. Or you might use tallow or oil.\u201d\n\n\u201cDear brother,\u201d he answered, \u201cyou forget that I have no books to read.\nAnd the few things that need light\u2014cannot I just as well do them by\nday?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, then, the long nights\u2014you sleep?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said he gently, \u201cI do not sleep\u201d; and later, with his strange\nsmile, he added: \u201cI live.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou live!\u201d I echoed in perplexity; and then I stopped, catching the\nquiet, steady gaze of his eyes.\n\n\u201cJust so,\u201d he said, \u201cI live. I had never lived before.\u201d\n\nMost of all, I think, I was perplexed at the sight of his violin. From\nwhat I had seen of his youthful life, I could have imagined him spending\nall day and all night with that; but here it hung, useless as a stick of\nwood.\n\n\u201cYou could have made strings for it,\u201d I said. \u201cI can make them for you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut they would be of no use to me,\u201d he answered.\n\n\u201cAnd all your music\u2014you have given it up?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe music I have to do with,\u201d he said, \u201chas long ceased to be music\nthat anyone could play.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Daniel!\u201d I protested.\n\n\u201cListen to me,\u201d he said. \u201cHave you never read that Beethoven never heard\nsome of his greatest symphonies? Do you not understand how a musician\ncan comprehend music from a score? And from that, how he can create it\nin his own mind and enjoy it, without ever writing it down or hearing\nit?\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d I said, almost speechless with wonder; \u201cthen you compose music\nin your mind?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d he said. \u201cI _live_ music in my soul.\u201d\n\nThese things were on the day of my rescue, after I had recovered from my\nexhaustion. The words which he spoke I no more comprehended than if I\nhad been a child; but the strangeness of the thing haunted my soul, and\nmy questioning and arguing never ceased. All of this he bore with a\ngentle patience.\n\nI had my youthful recollections of Robinson Crusoe; and as a man of\nscience, I could naturally not spend two minutes conversing with Daniel\nand examining his affairs without thinking some new device by which he\ncould have made his lot more tolerable. I could as yet hardly realise\nthat it was to be my own fate to live upon the deserted island for ever;\nall my thoughts were of what I should have done had I been in his place.\nHe had no weapons, no traps, no gardens, no house\u2014and so on. \u201cBut,\nEdward,\u201d he would say again and again, \u201cdo you not understand? Once\nmore\u2014I have no _time_ for such things.\u201d\n\n\u201cTime! _Time!_\u201d I would cry. \u201cBut what _else_ have you? What have you to\n_do?_\u201d\n\n\u201cI have my life to live,\u201d was the invariable response; \u201cI have no time\nfor anything else.\u201d\n\nWe were sitting that afternoon beneath the shade of a great forest-tree\nbefore the cavern. Suddenly, seeing again the dazed look upon my face,\nhe put his arm about me.\n\n\u201cListen to me, dear brother,\u201d he said, smiling. \u201cYou remember Diogenes,\nwho lived in a tub? That was in order that he might have to call no man\nmaster, and no thing\u2014least of all his own body. And can you not see that\na man\u2019s own soul is his soul just the same, whether he be on a desert\nisland or in the midst of a city of millions? And that mind, emotion,\nwill\u2014he has the life of his soul to live?\u201d\n\nI sat surprised into silence; then suddenly I felt Daniel\u2019s arm tighten\nabout me. \u201cAh, my dear brother,\u201d he said, his voice lowering, \u201cit will\nbe so hard! Do you think I have not realised it\u2014how hard, _hard_ it will\nbe?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat will be hard?\u201d I asked.\n\n\u201cYour life\u2014everything you have to face,\u201d he answered. \u201cHow can you not\nsee it\u2014do you not see that _you_ have to live upon this island, too?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have not thought of it much,\u201d I said. \u201cI have been thinking of you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it,\u201d he replied; \u201cbut I do not see how you are to bear it. I saw\nit all while I watched you sweep in with the boat\u2014I saw all the pain and\nall the sorrow, and it was long before I made up my mind that it was not\nbest to let you die.\u201d I started, but he held me tight.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he said, \u201cand I fear that I chose wrongly. Is it not strange that\na man who has seen what I have seen should still be bound by such\nchains\u2014that what I knew would be best, I could not do, simply because\nyou were my brother?\u201d\n\nHe must have felt my heart beating faster. \u201cListen to me,\u201d he went on\nquickly, but still with his frightful quietness. \u201cListen to me while I\ntry to tell you\u2014what I can hardly bear to tell you. All the tragedy of\nbeing is summed up in such a situation as this of ours; I am as helpless\nbefore it as you are\u2014both of us are as helpless as children.\u201d\n\nI gazed at him again, and suddenly he caught me with the wild look of\nhis eyes. He had no need to hold me with his hand.\n\n\u201cBrother,\u201d he said, \u201cyou must think this out for yourself, as you can: I\ncannot explain it to you\u2014cannot explain anything about it. Suffice it to\nsay that for twenty years I have lived here, and that I have fought a\nfight which no man has ever fought before, and seen what I believe no\nman has ever seen. Knowing you as I do, I know that you can by no\npossibility ever follow me. It is as if I had found the fourth dimension\nof space; it is as if I dwelt in a house through the walls of which you\nwalked without seeing them. How you are to bear your life here, my dear,\ndear brother, I do not know; but the truth is merciless, and you must\nface it\u2014you will have to live on this island all your days, I am sure;\nand you will have to live here _alone_!\u201d\n\nA sudden shudder passed through me. \u201cDaniel!\u201d I gasped; it seemed to me\nthat his eyes were on fire. \u201cYou mean, I suppose, that you are going\naway to some other part of the place\u2014to another island?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhether I go to another place or not, what matters that? No, I shall\nnot, I think; and rest assured that, whatever I do, I love you, my heart\nyearns for you, and all my tenderness and love are yours; but also that\nthough you were with me, and held me in your arms four-and-twenty hours\na day\u2014yet all the time you would be alone.\u201d\n\nI could find no word to say\u2014I could scarcely think.\n\n\u201cThe pain of it,\u201d he went on, still quietly, still tenderly, \u201cis that I\ncannot explain it to anyone, that I cannot explain it to myself; that\nthere are no words for it, nothing but the thing. The only explanation I\ncan give is that I am become a madman, and that you must accept the\nfact. For the thing I do I can no more help doing than I could help the\nbeating of my heart. All the world of love that I might bear to you, or\nto any other human soul, could no more enable me to stop than it would\nenable the grass to stop growing. Again you must accept the fact\u2014you\nmust learn to think of me as a man who is in the grasp of a fiend.\u201d\n\nThere was a pause. Not once had I taken my eyes from my brother\u2019s, and I\nsat with my heart throbbing wildly; the strangeness of the whole thing\nwas too much for me\u2014at times I was certain that I was indeed listening\nto a maniac.\n\nWhen my brother began speaking again, I was at first hardly conscious of\nit. \u201cEdward,\u201d he said, \u201cI have thought about this\u2014that perhaps my\npresence would be painful to you. If so, let me go away. Take what tools\nI have here, and make this place your home\u2014you have knowledge at your\ncommand, you can plant and hunt and study, and do what you will. As for\nme, such things make no difference; I could soon make myself comfortable\nagain, and perhaps\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cSay no more about it,\u201d I interrupted quickly; \u201cif anyone must go, let\nit be me, for I shall have need of occupation.\u201d\n\nFor long hours after that strange experience I was pacing up and down\nthe storm-swept beach of the island. What I had heard had disturbed me\nmore than anything before in my life; the whole surroundings contributed\nto the effect\u2014the perils I had passed through, the terrible future which\nstretched before me, the loss of my brother, and the finding of this\nstrange madman in his place. But I was by nature a practical person,\nscientific and precise in my mode of thought; I did my best to convince\nmyself that solitude and suffering had unhinged my brother\u2019s mind. There\nis no use telling a scientist that he cannot understand a certain\nmatter, and expecting him to let it rest; my mind was soon made up that\nI would study this malady, and perhaps cure it. My interest in the\nstrange problem did more than anything else to keep me from realising to\nthe full extent the discomfort I must needs face in the future.\n\nWhen hunger brought my thoughts back to myself, I returned to the cave,\nwhere I found my brother pacing backward and forward upon a path which\nhe had worn deep in the ground in front of his home; his head was sunk\nforward, his eyes on the ground, and he was evidently lost in deep\nthought. I spoke to him once, but he did not hear me; I walked by him\nand entered the cavern.\n\nI now set to work to make a thorough examination of his belongings,\nmusing that perhaps the best way to get to the bottom of his strange\ntrouble would be to provide him with some of the ordinary amenities of\nlife. I found that the tools were not too rusty to be of service, and\nbeing a person with talent for doing things, I was soon interested in\nplanning how I could make a habitable place out of the cave. In the\nlatitude I knew that a door and a fireplace would never be an absolute\nnecessity; but I pleased myself thinking that they might not be useless\nwhen the storms blew in. Also, being blessed with much knowledge of the\nnatural world, I flattered myself that before many days would have\npassed I should have added considerably to the comforts of the house.\n\nI gave the balance of the day to a preliminary ransacking of the island.\nA scientist has an inexhaustible mine of interest in such an\nenvironment, and in the plans which I formed for work I forgot\neverything else for the time.\n\nAnd so towards sundown I returned to the cabin. My brother was still\npacing to and fro, exactly as I had left him. Taught by previous\nexperience, I entered the cabin without addressing him, and set about\npreparing a meal. I had not gone very far before I heard his step behind\nme.\n\n\u201cEdward,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d I asked, turning.\n\n\u201cI wished merely to tell you\u2014that you will not see me for a day or two.\nI wish you not to worry about me.\u201d\n\nI gazed at him in perplexity that was too great to permit of my framing\na question. His haggard glance met mine again, and again he put his hand\nupon my shoulder with a gesture of affection; then he turned and went\nslowly away.\n\nThe incident diminished my appetite, for I had expected to interest him\nin my banquet. I sat for hours afterwards, gazing out of the cavern\nentrance at the moonlighted grove, silent and desolate beyond any\ntelling. I think I never felt more alone than just then.\n\nThe problem was my only company; I had no idea where Daniel had gone;\nbut after a feverish sleep I was up again at dawn, my mind fully made up\nfor a search. I fear I drag out my story\u2014it was nearly sundown when at\nlast my efforts were rewarded. I was returning home in despair and\nmisery, when, suddenly, in the back of the same cliffs in which was our\nhome, I saw another opening, and with a gleam of hope I hurried towards\nit and peered in. It was too dark to see, but I entered and stepped to\none side in the darkness; and then, as my eyes adjusted themselves to\nthe gloom, I saw my brother.\n\nI was unperceived, and I went forward until I could see him plainly. He\nsat upon a block of stone, the edge of which his hands gripped tensely;\nwith his face slightly raised, he was staring before him into space. I\nwould describe, if I could, the impression which his whole appearance\ngave me; it was of a man undergoing some fearful strain. The knotted\nmuscles stood out upon his arms; his nostrils were distended, his breath\ncoming fast, and I could see the veins throbbing in his forehead. I\nstood for I know not how long, with my heart beating madly, a strange,\nindescribable _fear_ in possession of me. Divining the truth\ninstinctively, I moved in front of him and gazed into his eyes; he\nneither saw me nor heard me, nor gave any sign that he was conscious of\nmy presence. Then suddenly, unable to bear the strain any longer, I\nclutched him in my arms, crying wildly: \u201cDaniel! Daniel!\u201d\n\nTo my horror, he gave no signs. Even then I clung to him, I shook him; I\ncould feel the quivering of his tense arms. At last, completely\novercome, I turned and staggered from the place.\n\nAll that night I lay stretched out upon the bed, sleepless. I had\nstudied medicine, but nothing that I had ever heard of bore any\nresemblance to this. Perhaps two hours after sunrise, as I was sitting\nwith my eyes fixed in the direction of the other cavern, all at once I\nsaw my brother appear.\n\nI sprang up in sheer fright; he was pale beyond imagination. He paid no\nattention to me, but went past me and entered the cave. He groped his\nway to his larder and, sinking down upon the ground, took some of the\nfood and ate it slowly. There was a bowl of milk which I had put there,\nand which he drank. Then he lay down, resting his head upon his arm, and\nfell fast asleep.\n\nI followed him in silence when he rose, his weakness apparently gone. He\nwent to the spring which was near the cavern, and bathed his face and\narms in the stream below it. After that he came towards me and, sitting\ndown beside me, put his arm around me.\n\n\u201cDear brother,\u201d he said, \u201cit was very good of you; but please do not do\nwhat you did again.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou knew that I was there?\u201d I cried.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he said, \u201cI knew it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd why did you not answer me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI could not answer you, brother?\u201d And then with a sudden gesture he\nchecked me. \u201cI could not even tell you _why_,\u201d he said. \u201cIt must suffice\nyou, Edward, to know that this must be, and that you cannot help it.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut it will kill me!\u201d I cried.\n\n\u201cPerhaps,\u201d he said very quietly, \u201cor perhaps it will kill me first. I\ncannot tell.\u201d\n\nWe stood for some minutes without speaking. \u201cDaniel,\u201d I ventured at\nlast, \u201cI had hoped that in the external ways I might assist you\u2014your\nfood, perhaps\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI could not let you serve me,\u201d he answered; \u201cI have no way to serve you\nin return. And, besides that, I have learned to do cheerfully what\nlittle physical toil I must. The island is covered with food, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut if you should be sick?\u201d I cried.\n\n\u201cIf I should be sick,\u201d he said, \u201cI should either get well again, or else\ndie.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you do not feel pain?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo learn to bear pain has been one of my tasks,\u201d was the response. \u201cI\nshould think,\u201d he continued, changing the subject abruptly, \u201cthat if you\nhad studied all your life as you did when we lived together, by this\ntime you would not fear solitude\u2014that you would find in this new world\nenough to fill all your time.\u201d\n\n\u201cI might\u2014perhaps I shall,\u201d I said; \u201cbut, Daniel, you have been here\ntwenty years, and never seen a ship! So how could I know that the result\nof any studies of mine would ever be made known to the world? I have not\neven any paper to write upon.\u201d\n\nThe other sat gazing ahead of him at the moonlit water through the\ntrees; I saw the strange smile upon the lips again.\n\n\u201cAll that sorrow,\u201d he said\u2014\u201cI fought with it once myself, and how I wish\nthat I could help you to fight with it! For a year or so I also waited\nfor a ship, and wrote down the best of my music, and poured out the\ntears of my soul. But, Edward, I no longer write my music, and I no\nlonger fear lest my work be not made known to the world.\u201d\n\nHis voice had sunk low. Over the tree-tops a silver moon was gleaming,\nand his eyes were fixed upon it. \u201cOn that huge ball of iron and rock,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201cthere was once power and life and beauty; and now it rolls\nthere through the years and the ages, cold and dead and still. And some\nday this planet, too, will roll through the years and the ages; and no\neye will behold it, and no mind will be aware of it; and the voices of\nmen will be hushed upon it, and the monuments of men will be dust upon\nit; and Edward, what then of my music, what then of your science and\nyour books?\u201d\n\nI answered nothing.\n\n\u201cPerhaps in all the ages that have gone over this island,\u201d he continued,\n\u201cno human foot ever trod upon it before.\u201d\n\nAnd so my brother passed on, pressing his hand upon my shoulder; and\nthrough the watches of the night I saw him pacing backward and forward,\nbackward and forward, upon the long, white stretch of sand.\n\nA month must have passed after that\u2014I took little heed of the time. I\ntoiled at the cave, I played hunter and naturalist. I was busy with my\nhands, but very seldom was I happy or at peace. For day after day that\nsilent figure roamed here and there before my eyes, and hour after hour\nthose strange, silent vigils to the black cavern continued. I grew more\nand more restless and oppressed, until at last, one night, at the end of\na long and exhausting vigil, my impatience reached its climax.\n\nI remember how I sat by his side and caught his hand, like a\nsupplicating child. \u201cDaniel,\u201d I asked, \u201chas it never occurred to you\nthat you are unkind to me?\u201d\n\n\u201cUnkind?\u201d he asked gently.\n\n\u201cUnkind,\u201d I said, \u201cI have waited\u2014how long have I waited. It seemed to me\nthat it could not last for ever\u2014that you would not continue to treat me\nalways as if I were a child.\u201d\n\n\u201cEdward,\u201d he said, \u201cI know what you are going to say. I wish that you\nwould spare me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot spare you!\u201d I cried with sudden vehemence. \u201cI tell you I\ncannot bear it\u2014I tell you I shall go mad! This loneliness and this\nhaunting perplexity\u2014I swear to you that I cannot endure it any longer!\u201d\n\nMy brother sat gazing before him. After a moment I went on, more\nquietly, pleading with him. \u201cDaniel,\u201d I said, \u201cyou cannot ever persuade\nme that you must needs treat me as you have treated me since I came to\nthis place. I came here to seek for you\u2014for that purpose alone\u2014and with\nlove in my heart. And you keep me from you, you treat me as if I were\nnot a human being!\u201d\n\n\u201cStop, Edward!\u201d cried my brother imploringly; \u201cdo not say such things as\nthat! Ah! what can I tell you? How can I say it to you?\u2014it is not enough\nthat you should be a human being.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot enough!\u201d I echoed.\n\n\u201cAh! do you suppose\u2014can you suppose\u2014that if this thing of which we speak\nwere mine to give\u2014if by losing it myself I could give it to you\u2014can you\nsuppose I would not do it, and do it with joy? All that love could make\npossible I would do\u2014how much I would do I cannot tell you. But this that\nyou ask of me\u2014this I _cannot_ do!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean\u201d\u2014I clung to the argument with my scientific instinct\u2014\u201cyou mean\nthat there is in your own life, in your own mind, certain things which\ncould be conveyed to another\u2019s?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cBut the use of words\u2014\u2014\u201d I began.\n\n\u201cNo words could have any relation to this,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cBut ideas, Daniel!\u201d I protested. \u201cThere may be ideas in the mind for\nwhich we can find no words, but surely we can approximate them, we can\nforeshadow them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere are some things in my mind that are not ideas,\u201d was the quick\nreply.\n\n\u201cI do not understand that,\u201d I exclaimed.\n\n\u201cI know it,\u201d said my brother; \u201cthat is the point.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d I cried in vexation, \u201cbut what could such things be? How can one\nthink\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018In that high hour thought was not,\u2019\u201d my brother quoted.\n\nI sat silent, and a long pause followed. Then I began once more: \u201cLet me\nask you, Daniel; perhaps you do not understand how difficult it is for\none mind to believe that it cannot grasp what is in another mind. But\nthis\u2014this knowledge to which you have come\u2014you must surely have come to\nit by degrees, by a process?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cAnd of that\u2014surely you could explain to me at least the beginning,\nwhich might help me to divine in what the difference consists?\u201d\n\nHe answered nothing for a moment; I went on quickly: \u201cAh, I fear that\nthere must be another reason that you do not realise. Might it not be\ntrue that you would find it easier to explain to another than to me? Is\nit not at all that you shrink from my ways of thinking? Is it not that\nyou know that I have never understood your art?\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me,\u201d he asked suddenly, \u201cwhat have you thought about me since you\nhave been here?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat difference does it make what I think?\u201d I cried. \u201cWhat data have I\nfor thinking anything? I know that I am in the presence of something\nwhich haunts me; and also that I have never been more wretched in my\nlife.\n\n\u201cAh, Daniel,\u201d I cried, \u201cbe fair with me\u2014you have not been fair! Why\nshould you shrink from me as if I were a base person? What harm could it\ndo, even if I did not understand you? I cannot help it\u2014the effect of\nthis thing upon me; I am a grown man, and yet you have turned me into a\nchild again. If you were to tell me about ghosts, I think I should take\nit for the truth.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d said my brother.\n\n\u201cYes, even that!\u201d I cried. \u201cBut you think I am not worthy even to guess\nat your life and your knowledge\u2014no, do not try to stop me, I know that\nthis is the fact! If it were not so, you would trust to love\u2014you would\nnot cast me away from you, you would do what you could!\u201d\n\n\u201cBe still! Be still!\u201d he whispered. \u201cDo not speak to me that way\u2014I will\ndo what I can\u2014I will tell you what I am able.\u201d\n\nFor a long time he sat with knit brows. Then at last he began his story.\n\n\u201cI go back,\u201d he said, \u201cto the time when I first landed on this island.\nThe ship was wrecked upon the bar just ahead of us; and later, when the\nsea fell, we set to work to save from it as much as we could. The voyage\nhad restored my health, and I had my violin; and when I ascertained that\nthe place sheltered no wild beasts or men, I was myself well content to\nremain as long as might be necessary. I had no doubt that some ship\nwould appear in the end; and meanwhile there was nothing to trouble me,\nexcept the enforced companionship of men who did not understand me. In\nthe end, I escaped from that trouble with the plea that if I took up my\nresidence at the other side of the island I could better watch the sea;\nand so I built a tiny hut, and was, I think, as happy as I had ever been\nbefore.\n\n\u201cBut as the months passed by and no vessel appeared, the situation\nchanged. I perceived that sooner or later my violin would be useless;\nand about the same time the sailors came to me to say that they had\ndecided to rig a boat with a sail, and endeavor to reach some inhabited\nisland. It was the time of quiet seas, and they preferred to run the\nrisk to remaining longer in isolation.\n\n\u201cI was then called upon to make the great decision. Should I chance my\nlife with the rest, or should I trust to the certainty that some day a\nvessel would appear, and meanwhile devote myself to the work which\nloomed before me\u2014the living of my life, the seeking of the power which I\nfelt to be hidden in me, without any external assistance or reference\nwhatever? Perhaps had I seen the twenty years before me, I should have\nshrunk from the task; but, as it was, I chose what was to be the bolder,\nto my companions the more timid, course.\n\n\u201cAfter that, of course, there could be no halfway measures. I had to\nmake good my purpose; I had to face either absolute victory or absolute\ndefeat. As I had expected, my violin soon became useless, and, no ship\nappearing, I perceived in the end that I had to give up that thought,\ntoo.\n\n\u201cI have already hinted the grounds of my argument to you. It is my\nbelief that life is its own end, and needs no justification. It is also\nmy belief that each individual soul is a microcosm self-sufficient, and\nits own excuse for being. Each day as I wrought, I came to be more and\nmore possessed with that truth, it came to be more and more self-evident\nand final; until at last there came a day when I would not have hailed a\nship had I seen one\u2014when the life that loomed up before me within my own\nheart was a thing of so much interest that the rest of the world was\nnothing in comparison.\n\n\u201cAt first I had felt just as you feel now\u2014I had been interested in food\nand clothing and light, and what not else; but in the end I found myself\nbehaving as a soldier upon a long campaign\u2014I strewed my path with the\nthings that had once been necessities, and that now were encumbrances.\nIt proved thus with my violin\u2014strings or no strings; the music that\nthrobbed in my soul and swept me away into the far spaces of my being\u2014it\nwas no longer to be limited and restrained by what human fingers could\nachieve. It was as if I had once plodded upon the land and now\ndiscovered wings. When the vision came to me, I no longer toiled for\nweeks to shape it and record it\u2014I went on where the new light shone,\nwhere the new hope beckoned; and so, day after day, toward things with\nwhich it is not easy for words to deal.\u201d\n\nMy brother paused for a while; I did not speak.\n\n\u201cWhen I try to talk to you of these things,\u201d he said at last, \u201cI do not\nknow where I stand. I find myself thinking of the brother I remember\u2014who\nwas content to call himself a materialist. You ask me what was this life\nthat I speak of\u2014was it thought, was it motion, was it will? It was all,\nI think; always it involved contemplation, the beholding of a universe\nof being, and the comprehending of it as an utterance of power; and\nalways it was emotion, the flooding of one\u2019s being with an oceantide of\njoy and exultation; and always it was will\u2014it was the concentration of\nall the powers of one\u2019s soul in one colossal effort. But chiefest of\nall, I think\u2014and what is hardest even to hint at\u2014it was the fourth, and\nthe highest of the faculties of the mind\u2014it was imagination.\n\n\u201cIt is endless\u2014that is the first thing that a man learns about it\u2014it is\nthe very presence of the infinite. And also he learns that it is at his\ncommand\u2014that it is no accident, but his being itself; that he has but to\ncall, and it comes; that he has but to knock, and it is opened unto him.\nIt is that for which pilgrims and crusaders have fought, which prophets\nand saints have sung. And it is that, of course, which is the life of\nmusic. Music lies nearest to this mystery; to him who understands, it is\nthe living presence of the spirit. Its movement is the building up of\nthat ecstasy, its complexity is the infiniteness of that vision\u2014all the\nfulness and the wonder and the glory of it are there.\u201d\n\nI give but my recollection of my brother\u2019s words. He paused again and\nsat gazing before him. \u201cI do not know,\u201d he said, \u201chow much these\nmetaphors convey to you. A long time had passed\u2014some eight years, I\nimagine, though I kept no count of the time. I was coming bit by bit to\na new and strange experience\u2014one which is not of this life, and one\nwhich would seem to you, I imagine, as altogether supernatural.\n\n\u201cSo,\u201d said Daniel, \u201cyou must believe me as you can. I have spoken of\nstrange bursts of vision, sudden gleams of insight which shake one\u2019s\nbeing to its depth. Such experiences are not unusual\u2014poets have sung of\nthem; but now there came to be something which, strange as it may sound,\nseemed to be not of a kind with my own soul\u2014something which affected me\nwith an indescribable _fear_. I fought against the thought, for I had no\nbelief in the unseen. I strive to put into words something that cannot\nbe put into words\u2014but I was like a man groping in utter darkness, and\ntouching something _alive_. I had fought my way into this unknown land,\nand everywhere I had gone, so far, the things that I achieved were of my\nown power, the impulses were those of my own will. But now, day by day,\nI was haunted by the unthinkable suspicion that into my life was coming\nsomething that was not myself. I was a bird mounting upon the air\u2014and\nthe air had a will of its own! It was something that repelled\nme\u2014something that drew me. I wrestled with the thought day and night,\ncomparing it with anything of which I had ever heard or known. But in\nvain\u2014it was new to me.\n\n\u201cThese things of which I speak you must understand as happening in the\nmidst of a tempest of emotions; I sat in a state which there is no\nimagining\u2014I ate nothing for days, I sat for days without moving, until\nat last there came the climax, a desperate resolve, a mounting up, a\nbattling with unseen forces, a knocking upon unseen doors\u2014and then a\nsudden rending away of barriers, and the inpouring of a sea of life. I\ncan only use metaphors. I was a traveller, and I had toiled towards the\nsunrise, climbing peak upon peak, and suddenly I had stepped out upon\nthe summit, and stood transfixed with the glory of an endless vision of\ndawn.\u201d\n\nMy brother\u2019s voice had sunk to a whisper, and his hand lay upon my arm.\nI cannot tell how his words had affected me.\n\n\u201cAnd this\u2014this thing\u2014\u2014\u201d I ventured. \u201cIt is real?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is real,\u201d he said; \u201cthere is nothing else so real.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd it\u2014it is a heaven?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d he said, \u201cit is another earth.\u201d\n\nI started.\n\n\u201cAs a scientist,\u201d he said\u2014\u201cwhat do you believe about the universe? Is\nthere life throughout it?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know, it is a possibility.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Daniel; \u201cbut for me it is a certainty. It is a fact in which\nI live, day after day.\u201d\n\nI had caught him by the arm.\n\n\u201cDaniel!\u201d I cried.\n\n\u201cIt is just so,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cAnother planet?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know,\u201d was the answer. \u201cAnother race of beings, is all that I\ncan tell you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd are they human beings?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey have passed entirely beyond anything which those words can mean to\nme.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you know them?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd personally?\u201d\n\n\u201cMore than personally.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow do you mean?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know them directly. I live in their lives. I know them as I know the\nsymphony I hear\u2014as one drop of water knows the sea.\u201d\n\nI was dazed; I could hardly think. \u201cAnd their name?\u201d I asked.\n\n\u201cThey have no name,\u201d said my brother, \u201cthey have no words. They have\npassed the need of language\u2014they communicate with each other by\nimmediate spiritual union. Their life is upon a higher plane than ours;\nthey do not deal in ideas, but in imaginative intuitions.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd then, Daniel, when you\u2014when you pass into that trance\u2014it is that!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is that,\u201d said he. \u201cBy an effort of my will I lift myself into their\nconsciousness; but because my physical and mental faculties have not\nbeen prepared by long ages of development, my time with them is limited,\nand I fall back to recruit my strength.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd this has been going on for years?\u201d\n\n\u201cFor ten or twelve years,\u201d was his reply.\n\nIt will, perhaps, be best for me to give the substance of what he told\nme in the long conversation which ensued. \u201cI do not know where these\npeople are,\u201d he told me. \u201cI only know that throughout universal space\nthey are the race which is nearest in its development to our own. I do\nnot know what they look like. I have never seen nor heard them. I only\nlive their lives. I do not ask them any questions; our relation is\nnothing of that sort. It is as if they were playing music which I heard;\nbut also as if their music was their whole life, so that I know all they\nhave and do. Their presence comes to me as the inwelling of universal\njoy; of love and worship and rapture, unending and unthinkable. Their\nlife is infinite variety\u2014immediate and perpetual expansion\u2014spiritual\ninsight developing in a ratio determined by the will of the individuals.\nIt is as if a man were to witness the springtime arising of Nature, but\ntaking place in an hour instead of three months; and he comprehending\nit, not from the outside, but living it, as a bursting forth of song.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd to this song there is no limit?\u201d I asked him.\n\n\u201cWhen you speak of the soul as being infinite,\u201d said Daniel, \u201cyou do not\nmean that it extends merely beyond your thoughts, but you mean that you\nmay heap quantity upon quantity, and multiply quantity by quantity, in\nany ratio and at any speed you please, and still have infinity before\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean that these beings understand what is going on in each other\u2019s\nmind?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey understand all minds as you understand your own. It is of the\nnature of spiritual passion to mingle at a certain stage of intensity,\nlike electricity in the lightning flash. This race has developed a new\nsense, just as man has developed senses which are not possessed by lower\nanimals.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd these people were once men?\u201d\n\n\u201cPresumably.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd then they have escaped altogether from the sorrows of life?\u201d\n\n\u201cSay, rather,\u201d he answered, \u201cthat they have escaped to the sorrows of\nlife. The essence of life is sorrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt does not seem so, from your picture,\u201d I said.\n\n\u201cThat is simple because my picture is not understood. Every one of these\nbeings of whom I speak bears in his bosom a pain for which there are no\nwords; every one of them\u2014there are countless numbers of them, living\neach in my consciousness as the voice of one instrument lives in a\nsymphony\u2014each one is a Titan spirit, wrestling day and night without\nend, without possibility of respite, and bearing on his shoulders a\nuniversal load of woe. In no way could you imagine one better than as a\nsoldier in the crisis of the battle, panting, and blind with pain, dying\namid the glory of his achievement.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd such a life!\u201d I cried \u201cWhy do they live it?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey lived it because it demands with the voice of all their being to\nbe lived; because the presence of it is rapture and unutterable\nholiness; because it will allow no questions, because it is instant,\nimperative, and final\u2014_it will be lived!_\u201d\n\nI sat in silence. \u201cDo I gather from your words,\u201d I asked, \u201cthat\nimmortality is not one of the privileges of this race?\u201d\n\nHe smiled again. \u201cThe spiritual life,\u201d he said, \u201cdoes not begin until\nthe thought of immortality is flung away. A man\u2019s duty looms up before\nhim\u2014and in his weakness he will not do it, but puts the fruition of his\nlife into another world, where the terms are not so hard!\u201d\n\n\u201cThis people,\u201d I asked\u2014\u201cwhat do they know about God?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey know no more than men do,\u201d was the answer, \u201cexcept that they know\nthey know nothing. They know that the veil is not lifted. It is not that\nfor which they seek\u2014life is their task, and life only; to behold its\nendless fruition; to dwell in the beauty of it, to wield power of it; to\ntoil at its whirling loom, to build up palaces of music from it. Ah, my\nbrother, why have you never lived a symphony?\u201d\n\n\u201cThese people have no physical life?\u201d I asked.\n\n\u201cAssuredly, they have,\u201d was his answer, \u201cit is a life which does not\nenter their consciousness\u2014any more than, for instance, the beating of\nyour heart and the renewing of your tissues. They have attained to\nmastery over the world of matter. They temper the seasons to their wish;\ndisease and ill-health they have banished entirely; and understanding\nthe ways of Nature, they create their food at will.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd their society knows no rich and no poor? Their government?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey have no government,\u201d he said, \u201ctheir law is their inspiration.\u201d\n\nUntil far into the night we sat talking; and then, early in the morning,\nas I went out upon the beach\u2014I saw a ship standing in towards the shore!\nI recall, as if it were yesterday, how my heart leaped up, and with what\nan agony of uncertainty I stood waving a signal.\n\nAnd then I rushed to see my brother, shouting the news aloud. Startled\nwith his own thoughts, he gazed at me in perplexity.\n\n\u201cA ship has come!\u201d I cried. \u201cA ship!\u201d\n\n\u201cA ship!\u201d he echoed; and then with a sudden light: \u201cOh, I see!\u201d\n\n\u201cCome!\u201d I cried. \u201cThey will take us aboard!\u201d\n\nBut my brother shook his head. \u201cNo Edward,\u201d he replied, \u201cI cannot do\nthat.\u201d\n\nI started. \u201cNo,\u201d he said again, \u201cdo not ask me. You go\u2014but let me stay\nhere until the end!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat can you mean?\u201d I cried. \u201cCan you really suppose that I would leave\nyou?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not fitted to travel,\u201d he said\u2014\u201cI do not wish to change. And I\ncould not face the thing which you call civilisation. It has no interest\nfor me.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut we can live in the country,\u201d I cried. \u201cI have money\u2014nothing need\ntrouble you!\u201d But all my arguments made no impression upon him; he would\nonly repeat that he desired to be left alone. I tried to move him by\nsaying that I would not leave him. I might stay if I chose, he said\u2014he\ncould not help that; but if I were wise, I would leave him to his own\nlife; and I would not subject him to the pain of meeting the strangers\nupon the ship. They would not understand, and they would only cause him\nvexation. And even while I was protesting with him, we heard the shouts\nof men upon the shore. He rose up and laid his hand upon my shoulder,\nand kissed me upon the forehead, saying: \u201cBe wise\u2014or let me be wise for\nyou. Respect my judgment and let me go.\u201d\n\nAnd so he turned and started away toward the centre of the island. At\nthe edge of the thicket he turned and waved his hand to me. I never saw\nhim again.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                          TRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES\n\n\n 1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in\n      spelling.\n 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.\n 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.","title":"The Overman","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":8886}