https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/b227ba9884180992f8ada6ac1157d981.pdf?Expires=1776902400&Signature=QFGLEH-8wUpwMTgIKZYzHLj7egCUd9s2INiXStWyWOt6TfKgAGgyaUt1Y-8WPInucqEeOMjgAnqRBsGpvn2I1HLyqmEmggO4a93dXOK5MTQF0xC1RkUm7KspQ5oZriyHmwW8PTPbnthOcS6WO1BGTCwI3V-NjeZDCnZCIyfMjEsrdVe4BLbq3qtMA%7EoyDLIkqRet9PtcMfAlDB68vxZVuZ9dDiLuwHfhh%7EQumP22kT6FlMI1fZ%7Ewdl42u5NUfCnrlc%7EqiEa-B%7EAovnZ%7E41k3t8hCUwNUyiBTMm2mc%7Ecxdp75FDckuEyOPcUuMbU6qqk8YWnTLXl9KHQAknfBu1xIhA__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 319bd1149075ff007b28e61c4712fd83 PDF Text Text HEREAFTER? “ Warte nur; bald ruhest du auch.”—Goethe. From 1 THE INDEX.’ Time, Midnight.—Scene, a sick chamber: Julius sits by the bedside of his dying -father. FATHER. Julius, my sands of life are running low. My hours are numbered, and thou holdst a hand Which soon must rest as marble in thy grasp. To-morrow’s sun will look on thee bereaved Of him who gave thee life and who has reared His only son with tender, loving care. x JULIUS. Father, I cannot through my blinding tears See now thy features, which to me have seemed The index of a soul so pure and kind, That I have almost worshipped while I loved Him who to me was father, brother, friend. My life will seem all desolate when thou, My guardian and instructor, art no more. I cannot think it true that I so soon Must hear for the last time thy gentle voice Inciting me to noble aims of life. ( Weeps). �2 Yet tell me, father, is there aught that thou Wouldst give me as a last, a dying charge 1 Doubt not, I’ll do it, if ’tis in my power. FATHER. Nothing, my son; the wishes of my heart Dor thy great life-work are already known. Go steadfast on with nobleness of soul In the high path thou treadst with honour now ; So shalt thou also, when life’s evening comes, Lie down with equanimity to die. JULIUS. Father, of all the problems of the soul "Which we have oft discussed, there is not one "Which has so occupied our thoughts as this:— Is man immortal ? Is he still to live In conscious being after this frail clay Is decomposed to native dust once more ? When last we spoke of this, thou hadst no light, No fixed assurance of another life; The future looked impenetrably dark, And immortality was held by thee Not as a certainty, but as a hope. How does this awful question now appear, Now when the flame of life is burning low And Death’s dread shadow holds thee in its gloom ? FATHER, The same, my son, as when the ruddy blood Was coursing healthfully through all my veins, And when that seemed a subject quite abstract, Which never could have reference to me, A living, breathing man in the full flush �3 Of health and vigour. It is as you say: I then could find no proof that we should liveBeyond this brief existence, though I held Of such a future fife a solemn hope. I see no clearer fight than then I saw, Yet I am calm and die without a fear, Of this assured, that nothing I can do Will change a hair’s breadth that which is to be, ’Tis well if I awake; ’tis also well (Perchance e’en better), if I sleep; for who Can tell what mode of being may await The soul which leaves its tenement of clay 1 s Therefore I rest in perfect peace of mind: My only grief to say farewell to thee. JULIUS. My Father, I confess ’tis without hope That I approach thee with a strange request; But I would fain try every mode which may Throw light upon the gloom beyond the grave, ’Tis claimed by many that their absent dead Hold converse with them still from spirit realms. We oft have smiled at this thought in contempt,, And ridiculed such fancies as absurd; Yet, father, if in truth thou still shouldst five After thy spirit quits this mortal frame, And canst by any means convey to me News merely of the fact of such a life, I do implore thee, by our mutual love, Eeveal it to my lonely, broken heart! Come to me as I sit beside thy form, 1 Before I lay it in the silent grave! A constant, loving watch I’ll keep for thee, Longing and waiting for thy slightest sign. �4 FATHER. My son, thou knowst I had a brother onee, "Who died a score of years since, in the flower Of beautiful young manhood ? JULIUS. ' Father, yes. FATHER. When he lay dying, as I do to-night, His bright eyes clouding in the film of death, With bitter tears of grief and broken words I made of him the same request which thou Hast made of me. JULIUS. And what was the result ? FATHER. Dead silence ! Never from behind the veil, The dark, thick shroud which hid him from my sight, Came voice or sign. And so it is with all. I pity those deluded souls who sit Gaping and trembling round a creaking board, Invoking through shrewd tricksters their loved dead ! Dismiss all possibility of such A revelation from another world, And learn to live on, patient and resigned, Until the mystery is solved by Death. JULIUS. So be it, then ! But how profoundly sad That such must be the fate of every soul I �5 To yearn unutterably for the light, To crave with bitter tears that blessed boon— The sweet assurance of a future life, And yet to be compelled to calmly wait, See one by one the dear ones all depart, Nor know what fate is theirs beyond the tomb ! How horrible that not a ray of light Comes from that darkness, on whose border land We say the last farewell to those we love ! Alas ! what are we ? Puppets that are made To dance their part out on a reeling stage 1 Or, weaklings though we be, have we a spark Of that diviner essence which shall live, Nay, more, must live through everlasting years ? FATHER. Draw back the curtain, Julius •, let me look Once more upon the glorious expanse Of glittering worlds upon their rhythmic dance. {Julius draws back the curtain.) See yonder brilliant orb ! Its waves of light, Moving with swift pulsations through the depths Of azure space, fall now upon my eye Fatigued with years of travel since they left With lightning-like velocity their source. Around that distant sun move glowing worlds, Abounding doubtless like our own with life. Such suns and systems are dispersed through space As motes in sunbeams,—what then is our earth 1 A speck in vast immensity’s domain ! Moreover, from this speck, while yonder clock Ticks out its smallest increment of time, There pass away full thirty human lives ! What then is mine ? By what audacity �6 Can I claim endless being as my right ? If it shall be my lot to re-awake In conscious continuity of self, Why then I shall rejoice,— (gasps suddenly.) Ah ! this keen pain Comes once more—in my heart. Thy hand, my son I ’Tis dark !—I see no more thy face. Farewell! I’ll press thy hand—till—I— JULIUS (kneeling and clasping his father's hand: after a pause.) And this is death ! His hand grows icy cold within my own ; His breath grows fainter, and the flame of life But flickers in its socket ere it dies ! My father ! Canst thou hear me ? It is I! Press but my hand once more if thou dost hear I Gone I Gone 1 and whither ? Is this icy clay, Which here I kiss, the father whom I loved 2 These are his features,—these his loving hands Which but a moment since pressed mine again. So have I seen him often lie in sleep; But from this sleep, alas ! no filial voice Can e’er awake him I Still the starry light Falls gently"on his eyes, which take no note Of that which kindled thought a moment since 1 Was there a soul which ruled in this dear form, Which willed, and loved, and thought,—a conscious self? Distinct and free from its environment ? An entity which nothing can destroy Nor yet diffuse or merge into aught else ? Or was it but a part of the great whole) A drop of water prisoned in a shell �7 And floating on the bosom of the sea, Which at the breaking of the shell by Death Has mingled once more with it parent waves ? Or yet again, was it a kind of force, Like that which animates the waving plant And draws the juices upward to its leaves, Which now has been released from this poor form To work in others that we know not of ? If so,—’twere vain to ask its present place Or mode of action, as ’twould be to seek The whereabouts of an extinguished flame, Or of the breeze which lately fanned my cheek. Insoluble enigmas ! who can know The end of this poor, transitory life ? Well did my father say : “I calmly rest In peaceful equanimity of soul, With firmness waiting that which is to be.” With such a calm philosophy of fife He passed away, without a shade of fear. He could look back upon a life well spent, With powers used wisely for a noble end. ’Tis well. If still he lives, those powers will be More ripe for future usefulness. If not, Yet think upon the good they have achieved, Which still remains on earth in worthy lives Ennobled, aided, and reclaimed by him. Such immortality he has attained, And thus can well dispense with added life, If it should be denied. Here, father, here •On thy dead form, which I bedew with tears, I vow to strive thus for a deathless life : A life which shall continue in men’s souls Long after I am gone ; a constant power Inspiring them to pure and noble deeds, �8 And raising them from worthlessness and vice F Such power is now thy immortality ! Thou liv’st again in me and hundreds more, To whom thou didst impart thy lofty thoughts,, Thy generous impulses, thy tender love. So may 1 live, for evermore a source Of lasting good on this evolving globe In the sad drama of our human life ! J. L. Stoddard. PRINTED BY C. W. REYNELL, LITTLE PULTENEY STREET, HAYMARKET. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes. Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk. <img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Hereafter? Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Stoddard, John Lawson Description An account of the resource Place of publication: London Collation: 10 p. ; 18 cm. Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Printed by C.W. Reynell, Little Pulteney Street, London. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Thomas Scott Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1877 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G5520 Subject The topic of the resource Theatre Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a> This work (Hereafter?), identified by <a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk">Humanist Library and Archives</a>, is free of known copyright restrictions. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Conway Tracts Drama Future Life