The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1880-06-24
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Tlle In,nortailty so9 tIse Noul.

~
We were dining yesterday at Victor
Hugo's. Four of us were believers end
fonr atheists--not speaking OF the ladies,
who were all too clever to be ipfidels.
victor Hugo, OF coufss, YVES emong the
"To believe in God is to believe moth.
ipg," said one Of the atheists.
10 believe in God is TO believe every.
thing" cried Victor Bngo |; "it Is to be-
lieve La the infinite, and In ones immor-
tai soul. will prove 1t to you"
His face was bright with heavenly
halo. You know 6e was born with the
century. His face Is crowned with white
hair, but 1t is the volcano under the
snow His eyes shine like burning
Goals his brow is arched like an Olym-
pien,s; fhe nese 10 Fedned, with disten.
ded nostriis; the mouth is eager aud
smiling, still full ofJvaliant teeth 3 the
chin finishes @ profile designed after the
laws Of artistic grammar. 1t is we'll
made head or arobust body. by robust
do not mean enoFmous. He has net
the stature of giant nor the torso of O
Hercules. But he is man of steel, with
no sign OF old ags about, him, He hos
ell the agility, the supplenesa, the case
|
i enjoying his third or fourth youth; I do
! not donot he will see the century
through.
II feel in myself" he continued, "the
future life. am like forest which has
been more than once cut down. The new
shoots are stronger and livelier than
ever. am rising, / know, TO the sky.
The sunshine is on my head. The earth
gives me its generous sap, but heaven
lights me with the reflection of unknown
worlds. You say the soul Is nothing but
the resultant Df-bodily, powers. tYhy
| then Is my soul THE. more 1umipous. than
my bodily powers 2 Winter is on my
head and eternal spring. istimmy heart.
There l breathe ct this hour the fra
GRANGE of the lilacs, the violets and the
roses, as at twenty years. The nearer /
approach. the end, the palmer hear.
around mo the immortal symphonies Of
tho worlds which invite me. IL is mar
velous, yet simple. 1t is fair tale and
IL ID history. For half a!century have
been writing my thoughts in prose and
verse; history, philosophy, drama, 70.
NANCE. tradition, satire ode and sonp-I
have tried all. But fee! have not said
the thousandth partiof what is in me.
When go down to the grave, can say.
IKE 30 many others, Il have finished nv
days work, but / cannot say 4 have fin.
ished my life.' Ny days work will
begin again the next morning, The
tomb istnot.a blind alleyi;s It is artlor-
oughtare: II closes on the twilight to
open with the dawn. 1 improve every
hour, because 1 love this world as nv
fatherland, ,.apd because the truth COM
Pels me as IL compelled Voitaire, thst
human divinity. Ny work Is only q be-
ginning. My monument 10 hardly above
its foundations. would be glad to seq
Il mounting and mounting forever. The
thirst forsthe.s infinitei proves infinity.
What DO you say of that, Messieurs
"l say you are awonaerful man.
am not o wonderful man. I obey
ny soul. Ny aoql has its destiny, and
oDeys unknown lava" -
1T obeysath laws Of creation. = said
have headache, night would come over
your soul, and You yonid feel that IL Is ,vea
the creature 6f your brain He Here. e. g5S 'fbS
instance, is the'cofIee. Take some. na
do, in this pretty Japanese G. ,. and vonr
blood will be quickened, ana YOUR Wit
livelier, and for an ~hourl you willbea q
greater poet than ever"
Don't talk such nonsense. INV vittv
Friend. ! never drink coffee nor cham.
pagne.a Why dba not those who take
these stimulants write either my verse or
MP prose?" sa'oifi''
1T is because nature has not 30 we'll
fashioned their braina."
"whass Is o .suref aure sSa sala ' ylrt0f '1ogo
ut 10 IN occult force" said the atheist
"There are no occult forces; there are
only lprHsnppss forces, Occuls force is
chso9, .laEnineua force 10 God. Man is an
infinite little copy of God; this is glory
enough for man. am man, an inyis.
ible atom, o drop in the osean, a grain
ofeand on the shere. Little as I am. il
feel the God In me, because I can also
bring form out Of my chaos. I make
books which are creations. can saw
this without boasting. for i have no more
pride than o coral insect in its reef:. no
more than the smallest bird which ioins
in the universal hymn. I am nothing.
Here lies Victor Hugo-an atom. q pass.
ing echo, 4 flying cloud, o wave which
laps the shore, ! am nothing, but let
me live all my future lives; lot me con.
tinue my work begun; Let me scale in
coming ages oil the heights, all the
perils. all the love-, all the agenics.
Who will say that c1e day, afler.thon.
sands OF accents, shall not, like all
men Of good will, have conquered q place
in the supreme council of thnt adorable
tyrant whose name ia God 2"
Il RI. = , =