ormal ever less highly, and neither
seeks nor desires it; for it is soon borne home to him, as he reflects
on the vastness of nature, with her slow, monotonous movement, that the
ridiculous pretensions our ignorance and vanity put forth are the most
truly abnormal of all. He no longer vexes the hours as they pass with
prayer for strange or marvellous adventure; for these come only to such
as have not yet learned to have faith in life and themselves. He no
longer awaits, with folded arms, the chance for superhuman effort; for
he feels that he exists in every act that is human. He no longer
requires that death, or friendship, or love should come to him decked
out with garlands illusion has woven, or escorted by omen, coincidence,
presage; but they come in their bareness and simpleness, and are always
sure of his welcome. He believes that all that the weak, and the idle,
and thoughtless consider sublime and exceptional, that the fall
equivalent for the most heroic deed, can be found in the simple life
that is bravely and wholly faced. He no longer considers himself the
chosen son of the universe; but his happiness, consciousness, peace of
mind, have gained all that his pride has lost. And, this point once
attained, then will the miraculous adventures of a St. Theresa or
Jean-de-la-Croix, the ecstasy of the mystics, the supernatural
incidents of legendary loves, the star of an Alexander or a
Napoleon--then will all these seem the merest childish illusions
compared with the healthy wisdom of a loyal, earnest man, who has no
craving to soar above his fellows so as to feel what they cannot feel,
but whose heart and brain find the light that they need in the
unchanging feelings of all. The truest man will never be he who desires
to be other than man. How many there are that thus waste their lives,
scouring the heavens for sight of the comet that never will come; but
disdaining to look at the stars, because these can be seen by all, and,
moreover, are countless in number! This craving for the extraordinary
is often the special weakness of ordinary men, who fail to perceive
that the more normal, and ordinary, and uniform events may appear to
us, the more are we able to appreciate the profound happiness that this
uniformity enfolds, and the nearer are we drawn to the truth and
tranquillity of the great force by which we have being. What can be
less abnormal than the ocean, which covers two-thirds of the globe; and
yet, what is ther