Books: Ardath

M >> Marie Corelli >> Ardath

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He paused. Alwyn was listening with eager, almost breathless,
attention.

"After this"--went on Heliobas--"came a long period of
prefigurements; types and suggestions, that, running through all
the various religions that sprang up swiftly and as swiftly
decayed, hinted vaguely at the birth of a child,--offspring of a
pure Virgin--a miraculously generated God-in-Man--an absolutely
Sinless One, who should be sent to remind Humanity of its intended
final high destiny, and who should, by precept and example, draw
the Earth nearer to Heaven. I would here ask you to note what most
people seem to forget,--namely, that since Christ came, all these
shadowy types and prefigurements have CEASED; a notable fact, even
to skeptical minds. The world waited dimly for something, it knew
not what,--the various Fraternities of the Cross waited also,
feeling conscious that some great era of hope and happiness was
about to dawn for all men. When the Star in the East arose
announcing the Redeemer's birth, there were some forty or fifty of
these Fraternities existing, three in the ancient province of
Chaldea, from whence a company of the wisest seers and sages were
sent to acknowledge by their immediate homage the Divinity born in
Bethlehem. These were the 'wise men out of the East' mentioned in
the Gospel. We knew--I say WE, because I am descended directly
from one of these men, and have always belonged to their
Brotherhood--we knew it was DIVINITY that had come amongst us,--
and in our parchment chronicles there is a long account of how the
deserts of Arabia rang with music that holy night--what wealth of
flowers sprang up in places that had hither to lain waste and dry
--how the sky blazed with rings of roseate radiance,--how fair and
wondrous shapes were seen flitting across the heavens,--the road
of communication between men and Angels being opened at a touch by
the Saviour's advent."

Again he paused,--and after a little silence resumed:

"Then we added the Star to our existing Symbol, the Cross, and
became the Brotherhood of the Cross and Star. As such, after the
Redeemer's birth, we put all other matters from us, and set
ourselves to chronicle His life and actions, to pray and wait,
unknowing what might be the course of His work or will. One Day He
came to us,--ah! happy those whom He found watching, and whose
privilege it was to receive their Divine Guest!"

His voice had a passionate thrill within it, as of tears,--and
Alwyn's heart beat fast,--what a wonderful new chapter was here
revealed of the old, old story of the Only Perfect Life on earth!

"One of the Fraternities," went on Heliobas, "had its habitation
in the wilderness where, some years later, the Master wandered
fasting forty days and forty nights. To that solitary abode of
prayerful men He came, when He was about twenty-three earthly
years of age; the record of His visit has been reverently penned
and preserved, and from it we know how fair and strong He was,--
how stately and like a King--how gracious and noble in bearing--
how far exceeding in beauty all the sons of men! His speech was
music that thrilled to the heart,--the wondrous glory of His eyes
gave life to those who knelt and worshipped Him--His touch was
pardon--His smile was peace! From His own lips a store of wisdom
was set down,--and prophecies concerning the fate of His own
teaching, which then He uttered, are only now, at this very day,
being fulfilled. Therefore we know the time has come--" he broke
off, and sighed deeply.

"The time has come for what?" demanded Alwyn eagerly.

"For certain secrets to be made known to the world which till now
have been kept sacred," returned Heliobas,--"You must understand
that the chief vow of the Fraternity of the Cross and Star is
SECRECY,--a promise never to divulge the mysteries of God and
Nature to those who are unfitted to receive such high instruction.
It is Christ's own saying--'A faithless and perverse generation
asketh for a sign, and no sign shall be given.' You surely are
aware how, even in the simplest discoveries of material science,
the world's attitude is at first one of jeering incredulity,--how
much more so, then, in things which pertain solely to the
spiritual side of existence! But God will not be mocked,--and it
behooves us to think long, and pray much, before we unveil even
one of the lesser mysteries to the eyes of the vulgar. Christ knew
the immutable condition of Free-Will,--He knew that faith,
humility, and obedience are the hardest of all hard virtues to the
self-sufficient arrogance of man; and we learned from Him that His
Gospel, simple though it is, would be denied, disputed, quarrelled
over, shamefully distorted, and almost lost sight of in a
multitude of 'free' opinions,--that His life-giving Truth would be
obscured and rendered incomprehensible by the WILFUL obstinacy of
human arguments concerning it. Christ has no part whatever in the
distinctly human atrocities that have been perpetrated under cover
of His Name,--such as the Inquisition, the Wars of the Crusades,
the slaughter of martyrs, and the degrading bitterness of SECTS;
in all these things Christ's teaching is entirely set aside and
lost. He knew how the proud of this world would misread His words
--that is why He came to men who for thousands of years in
succession had steadily practised the qualities He most desired,--
namely, faith, humility, and obedience,--and finding them ready to
carry out His will, He left with them the mystic secrets of His
doctrine, which He forbade them to give to the multitude till
men's quarrels and disputations had called His very existence into
doubt. Then,--through pure channels and by slow degrees--we were
to proclaim to the world His last message."

Alwyn's eyes rested on the speaker in reverent yet anxious
inquiry.

"Surely"--he said--"you will begin to proclaim it now?"

"Yes, we shall begin," answered Heliobas, his brow darkening as
with a cloud of troubled thought--"But we are in a certain
difficulty,--for we may not speak in public ourselves, nor write
for publication,--our ancient vow binds us to this, and may not be
broken. Moreover, the Master gave us a strange command,--namely,
that when the hour came for the gradual declaration of the Secret
of His Doctrine, we should intrust it, in the first place, to the
hands of one who should be young,--IN the world, yet not OF it,--
simple as a child, yet wise with the wisdom of faith,--of little
or no estimation among men,--and who should have the distinctive
quality of loving NOTHING in earth or Heaven more dearly than His
Name and Honor. For this unique being we have searched, and are
searching still,--we can find many who are young and both wise and
innocent, but, alas! one who loves the unseen Christ actually more
than all things,--this is indeed a perplexity! I have fancied of
late that I have discovered in my own circle,--that is, among
those who have been DRAWN to study God and Nature according to my
views,--one who makes swift and steady progress in the higher
sciences, and who, so far as I have been able to trace, really
loves our Master with singular adoration above all joys on earth
and hopes of Heaven; but I cannot be sure--and there are many
tests and trials to be gone through before we dare bid this little
human lamp of love shine forth upon the raging storm."

He was silent a moment,--then went on in a low tone, as though
speaking to himself:

"WHEN THE MECHANISM OF THIS UNIVERSE IS EXPLAINED IN SUCH WISE
THAT NO DISCOVERY OF SCIENCE CAN EVER DISPROVE, BUT MUST RATHER
SUPPORT IT, . . WHEN THE ESSENCE OF THE IMMORTAL SOUL IN MAN IS
DESCRIBED IN CLEAR AND CONCISE LANGUAGE,--AND WHEN THE MARVELLOUS
ACTION OF SPIRIT ON MATTER IS SHOWN TO BE ACTUALLY EXISTENT AND
NEVER IDLE,--then, if the world still doubts and denies God, it
will only have itself to blame!--But to you"--and he resumed his
ordinary tone--"all things, through your Angel's love, are made
more or less plain,--and I have told you the history of our
Fraternity merely that you may understand how it is we know so
much that the outer world is ignorant of. There are very few of us
left nowadays,--only a dozen Brotherhoods scattered far apart on
different portions of the earth,--but, such as we are, we are all
UNITED, and have never, through these eighteen hundred years, had
a shade of difference in opinion concerning the Divinity of
Christ. Through Him we have learned TRUE Spiritualism, and all the
miraculous power which is the result of it; and as there is a
great deal of FALSE spiritualism rampant just now, I may as well
give you a few hints whereby you may distinguish it at once,--
Imprimis: if a so-called Spiritualist tells you that he can summon
spirits who will remove tables and chairs, write letters, play the
piano, and rap on the walls, he is a CHARLATAN. FOR SPIRITS CAN
TOUCH NOTHING CORPOREAL UNLESS THEY TAKE CORPOREAL SHAPE FOR THE
MOMENT, as in the case of your angelic Edris. But in this
condition, they are only seen by the one person whom they visit,--
never by several persons at once--remember that! Nor can they keep
their corporeal state long,--except, by their express wish and
will, they should seek to enter absolutely into the life of
humanity, which, I must tell you, HAS BEEN DONE, but so seldom,
that in all the history of Christian Spirituality there are only
about four examples. Here are six tests for all the
'spiritualists' you may chance to meet:

"First. Do they serve themselves more than others? If so, they are
entirely lacking in spiritual attributes.

"Secondly. Will they take money for their professed knowledge? If
so, they condemn themselves as paid tricksters.

"Thirdly. Are they men and women of commonplace and thoroughly
material life? Then, it is plain they cannot influence others to
strive for a higher existence.

"Fourthly. Do they love notoriety? If they do, the gates of the
unseen world are shut upon them.

"Fifthly. Do they disagree among themselves, and speak against one
another? If so, they contradict by their own behavior all the laws
of spiritual force and harmony.

"Sixthly and lastly.--Do they reject Christ! If they do, they know
nothing whatever about Spiritualism, there being NONE without Him.
Again, when you observe professing psychists living in any
eccentric way, so as to cause their trifling every-day actions to
be remarked and commented upon, you may be sure the real power is
not in them,--as, for instance, people who become vegetarians
because they imagine that by so doing they will see spirits--
people who adopt a singular mode of dress in order to appear
different from their fellow-creatures--people who are lachrymose,
dissatisfied, or in any way morbid. Never forget that TRUE
Spiritualism engenders HEALTH OF BODY AND MIND, serenity and
brightness of aspect, cheerfulness and perfect contentment,--and
that its influence on those who are brought within its radius is
distinctly MARKED and BENEFICIAL. The chief characteristic of a
true, that is, CHRISTIAN, spiritualist is, that he or she CANNOT
be shaken from faith, or thrown into despair by any earthly
misfortune whatsoever. And while on this subject, I will show you
where the existing forms of Christianity depart from the teachings
of Christ: first, in LACK OF SELF ABNEGATION,--secondly, in LACK
OF UNITY,--thirdly, in failing to prove to the multitude that
Death is is not DESTRUCTION, but simply CHANGE. Nothing really
DIES; and the priests should make use of Science to illustrate
this fact to the people. Each of these virtues has its Miracle
Effect: Unity is strength; Self abnegation attracts the Divine
Influences, and Death, viewed as a glorious transformation, which
it IS, inspires the soul with a sense of larger life. Sects are
UNChristian,--there should he only ONE vast, UNITED Church for all
the Christian world--a Church, whose pure doctrines should include
all the hints received from Nature and the scientific working of
the Universe,--the marvels of the stars and the planetary
systems,--the wonders of plants and minerals,--the magic of light
and color and music; and the TRUE MIRACLES of Spirit and Matter
should be inquired into reverently, prayerfully, and always with
the deepest HUMILITY;--while the first act of worship performed
every holy Morn and Eve should be Gratitude! Gratitude--gratitude!
Ay, even for a sorrow we should be thankful,--it may conceal a
blessing we wot not of! For sight, for sense, for touch, for the
natural beauty of this present world,--for the smile on a face we
love--for the dignity and responsibility of our lives, and the
immortality with which we are endowed,--Oh my friend! would that
every breath we drew could in some way express to the All Loving
Creator our adoring recognition of His countless benefits!"

Carried away by his inward fervor, his eyes flashed with
extraordinary brilliancy,--his countenance was grand, inspired,
and beautiful, and Alwyn gazed at him in wondering, fascinated
silence. Here was a man who had indeed made the best of his
manhood!--what a life was his! how satisfying and serene! Master
of himself, he was, as it were, master of the world,--all Nature
ministered to him, and the pageant of passing history was as a
mere brilliant picture painted for his instruction,--a picture on
which he, looking, learned all that it was needful for him to
know. And concerning this mystic Brotherhood of the Cross and
Star, what treasures of wisdom they must have secreted in their
chronicles through so many thousands of years! What a privilege it
would be to explore such world-forgotten tracks of time! Yielding
to a sudden impulse, Alwyn spoke his thought aloud:

"Heliobas," he said, "tell me, could not I, too, become a member
of your Fraternity?"

Heliobas smiled kindly. "You could, assuredly"--he replied--"if
you chose to submit to fifteen years' severe trial and study. But
I think a different sphere of duty is designed for you. Wait and
see! The rules of our Order forbid the disclosure of knowledge
attained, save through the medium of others not connected with us;
and we may not write out our discoveries for open publication.
Such a vow would be the death-blow to your poetical labors,--and
the command your Angel gave you points distinctly to a life lived
IN the world of men,--not out of it."

"But you yourself are in the world of men at this moment"--argued
Alwyn--"And you are free; did you not tell me you were bound for
Mexico?"

"Does going to Mexico constitute liberty?" laughed Heliobas. "I
assure you I am closely constrained by my vows wherever I am,--as
closely as though I were shut in our turret among the heights of
Caucasus! I am going to Mexico solely to receive some manuscripts
from one of our brethren, who is dying there. He has lived as a
recluse, like Elzear of Melyana, and to him have been confided
certain important chronicles, which must be taken into trustworthy
hands for preservation. Such is the object of my journey. But now,
tell me, have you thoroughly understood all I have said to you?"

"Perfectly!" rejoined Alwyn. "My way seems very clear before me,--
a happy way enough, too, if it were not quite so lonely!" And he
sighed a little.

Heliobas rose and laid one hand kindly on his shoulder.
"Courage!"...he said softly. "Bear with the loneliness a while, IT
MAY NOT LAST LONG!"

A slight thrill ran through Alwyn's nerves,--he felt as though he
were on the giddy verge of some great and unexpected joy,--his
heart beat quickly and his eyes grew dim. Mastering the strange
emotion with an effort, he was reluctantly beginning to think it
was time to take his leave, when Heliobas, who had been watching
him intently, spoke in a cheerful, friendly tone:

"Now that we have had our serious talk out, Mr. Alwyn, suppose you
come with me and hear the Ange-Demon of music at St. James's Hall?
Will you? He can bestow upon you a perfect benediction of sweet
sound,--a benediction not to be despised in this workaday world of
clamor,--and out of all the exquisite symbols of Heaven offered to
us on earth, Music, I think, is the grandest and best."

"I will go with you wherever you please," replied Alwyn, glad of
any excuse that gave him more of the attractive Chaldean's
company,--"But what Ange-Demon are you speaking of?"

"Sarasate,--or 'Sarah Sayty,' as some of the clear Britishers call
him--" laughed Heliobas, putting on his overcoat as he spoke; "the
'Spanish fiddler,' as the crabbed musical critics define him when
they want to be contemptuous, which they do pretty often. These,
together with the literary 'oracles,' have their special cliques,
--their little chalked out circles, in which they, like tranced
geese, stand cackling, unable to move beyond the marked narrow
limit. As there are fools to be found who have the ignorance, as
well as the effrontery, to declare that the obfuscated, ill-
expressed, and ephemeral productions of Browning are equal, if not
superior, to the clear, majestic, matchless, and immortal
utterances of Shakespeare,--ye gods! the force of asinine braying
can no further go than this! ... even so there are similar
fools who say that the cold, correct, student-like playing of
Joachim is superior to that of Sarasate. But come and judge for
yourself,--if you have never heard him, it will be a sort of
musical revelation to you,--he is not so much a violinist, as a
human violin played by some invisible sprite of song. London
listens to him, but doesn't know quite what to make of him,--he is
a riddle that only poets can read. If we start now, we shall be
just in time,--I have two stalls. Shall we go?"

Alwyn needed no second invitation,--he was passionately fond of
music,--his interest was aroused, his curiosity excited,--
moreover, whatever the fine taste of Heliobas pronounced as good
must, he felt sure, be super-excellent. In a few minutes they had
left the hotel together, and were walking briskly toward
Piccadilly, their singularly handsome faces and stately figures
causing many a passer-by to glance after them admiringly, and
murmur sotto voce, "Splendid-looking fellows! ... not English!"
For though Englishmen are second to none in mere muscular strength
and symmetry of form, it is a fact worth noting, that if any one
possessing poetic distinction of look, or picturesque and animated
grace of bearing, be seen suddenly among the more or less
monotonously uniform crowd in the streets of London, he or she is
pretty sure to be set down, rightly or wrongly, as "NOT English."
Is not this rather a pity?--for England!

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THE WIZARD OF THE BOW.

When they entered the concert-hall, the orchestra had already
begun the programme of the day with Mendelssohn's "Italian"
Symphony. The house was crowded to excess; numbers of people were
standing, apparently willing to endure a whole afternoon's
fatigue, rather than miss hearing the Orpheus of Andalusia,--the
"Endymion out of Spain," as one of our latest and best poets has
aptly called him. Only a languidly tolerant interest was shown in
the orchestral performance,--the "Italian" Symphony is not a
really great or suggestive work, and this is probably the reason
why it so often fails to arouse popular enthusiasm. For, be it
understood by the critical elect, that the heart-whole
appreciation of the million is by no means so "vulgar" as it is
frequently considered,--it is the impulsive response of those who,
not being bound hand and foot by any special fetters of thought or
prejudice, express what they instinctively FEEL to be true. You
cannot force these "vulgar," by any amount of "societies," to
adopt Browning as a household god,--but they will appropriate
Shakespeare, and glory in him, too, without any one's compulsion.
If authors, painters, and musicians would probe more earnestly
than they do to the core of this INSTINCTIVE HIGHER ASPIRATION OF
PEOPLES, it would be all the better for their future fame. For
each human unit in a nation has its great, as well as base
passions,--and it is the clear duty of all the votaries of art to
appeal to and support the noblest side of nature only--moreover,
to do so with a simple, unforced, yet graphic eloquence of meaning
that can be grasped equally and at once by both the humble and
exalted.

"It is not in the least Italian"--said Heliobas, alluding to the
Symphony, when it was concluded, and the buzz of conversation
surged through the hall like the noise that might be made by
thousands of swarming bees,--"There is not a breath of Italian air
or a glimpse of Italian light about it. The dreamy warmth of the
South,--the radiant color that lies all day and all night on the
lakes and mountains of Dante's land,--the fragrance of flowers--
the snatches of peasants' and fishermen's songs--the tunefulness
of nightingales in the moonlight,--the tinkle of passing
mandolins,--all these things should be hinted at in an 'Italian'
Symphony--and all these are lacking. Mendelssohn tried to do what
was not in him,--I do not believe the half-phlegmatic, half-
philosophical nature of a German could ever understand the
impetuously passionate soul of Italy."

As he spoke, a fair girl, with gray eyes that were almost black,
glanced round at him inquiringly,--a faint blush flitted over her
cheeks, and she seemed about to speak, but, as though restrained
by timidity, she looked away again and said nothing. Heliobas
smiled.

"That pretty child is Italian," he whispered to Alwyn. "Patriotism
sparkled in those bright eyes of hers--love for the land of
lilies, from which she is at present one transplanted!"

Alwyn smiled also, assentingly, and thought how gracious, kindly,
and gentle were the look and voice of the speaker. He found it
difficult to realize that this man, who now sat beside him in the
stalls of a fashionable London concert-room, was precisely the
same one who, clad in the long flowing white robes of his Order,
had stood before the Altar in the chapel at Dariel, a stately
embodiment of evangelical authority, intoning the Seven Glorias!
It seemed strange, and yet not strange, for Heliobas was a
personage who might be imagined anywhere,--by the bedside of a
dying child, among the parliaments of the learned, in the most
brilliant social assemblies, at the head of a church,--anything he
chose to do would equally become him, inasmuch as it was utterly
impossible to depict him engaged in otherwise than good and noble
deeds. At that moment a tumultuous clamor of applause broke out on
all sides,--applause that was joined in by the members of the
orchestra as well as the audience,--a figure emerged from a side
door on the left and ascended the platform--a slight, agile
creature, with rough, dark hair and eager, passionate eyes--no
other than the hero of the occasion, Sarasate himself. Sarasate e
il suo Violino!--there they were, the two companions; master and
servant--king and subject. The one, a lithe, active looking man of
handsome, somewhat serious countenance and absorbed expression,--
the other, a mere frame of wood with four strings deftly knotted
across it, in which cunningly contrived little bit of mechanism
was imprisoned the intangible, yet living Spirit of Sound. A
miracle in its way!--that out of such common and even vile
materials as wood, catgut, and horsehair, the divinest music can
be drawn forth by the hand of the master who knows how to use
these rough implements! Suggestive, too, is it not, my friends?--
for if man can by his own poor skill and limited intelligence so
invoke spiritual melody by material means,--shall not God contrive
some wondrous tunefulness for Himself even out of our common
earthly discord? . ... Hush!--A sound sweet and far as the chime
of angelic bells in some vast sky-tower, rang clearly through the
hall over the heads of the now hushed and attentive audience--and
Alwyn, hearing the penetrating silveriness of those first notes
that fell from Sarasate's bow, gave a quick sigh of amazement and
ecstasy,--such marvellous purity of tone was intoxicating to his
senses, and set his nerves quivering for sheer delight in
sympathetic tune. He glanced at the programme,--"Concerto--
Beethoven"--and swift as a flash there came to his mind some lines
he had lately read and learned to love:

"It was the Kaiser of the Land of Song,
The giant singer who did storm the gates
Of Heaven and Hell--a man to whom the Fates
Were fierce as furies,--and who suffered wrong,
And ached and bore it, and was brave and strong
And grand as ocean when its rage abates."

Beethoven! ... Musical fullness of divine light! how the glorious
nightingale notes of his unworded poesy came dropping through the
air like pearls, rolling off the magic wand of the Violin Wizard,
whose delicate dark face, now slightly flushed with the glow of
inspiration, seemed to reflect by its very expression the various
phases of the mighty composer's thought! Alwyn half closed his
eyes and listened entranced, allowing his soul to drift like an
oarless boat on the sweeping waves of the music's will. He was
under the supreme sway of two Emperors of Art,--Beethoven and
Sarasate,--and he was content to follow such leaders through
whatever sweet tangles and tall growths of melody they might
devise for his wandering. At one mad passage of dancing semitones
he started,--it was as though a sudden wind, dreaming an enraged
dream, had leaped up to shake tall trees to and fro,--and the Pass
of Dariel, with its frozen mountain-peaks, its tottering pines,
and howling hurricanes, loomed back upon his imagination as he had
seen it first on the night he had arrived at the Monastery--but
soon these wild notes sank and slept again in the dulcet harmony
of an Adagio softer than a lover's song at midnight. Many strange
suggestions began to glimmer ghost-like through this same Adagio,
--the fair, dead face of Niphrata flitted past him, as a wandering
moonbeam flits athwart a cloud,--then came flashing reflections of
light and color,--the bewildering dazzlement of Lysia's beauty
shone before the eyes of his memory with a blinding lustre as of
flame, . . the phantasmagoria of the city of Al-Kyris seemed to
float in the air like a faintly discovered mirage ascending from
the sea,--again he saw its picturesque streets, its domes and
bell-towers, its courts and gardens.. again he heard the dreamy
melody of the dance that had followed the death of Nir-jalis, and
saw the cruel Lysia's wondrous garden lying white in the radiance
of the moon; anon he beheld the great Square, with its fallen
Obelisk and the prostrate, lifeless form of the Prophet Khosrul..
and.. Oh, most sad and dear remembrance of all! ... the cherished
Shadow of Himself, the brilliant, the joyous Sah-luma appeared to
beckon him from the other side of some vast gulf of mist and
darkness, with a smile that was sorrowful, yet persuasive; a smile
that seemed to say--"O friend, why hast thou left me as though I
were a dead thing and unworthy of regard?--Lo, I have never died,
--_I am_ here, an abandoned part of THEE, ready
to become thine inseparable comrade once more if thou make but the
slightest sign!"--Then it seemed as though voices whispered in his
ear--"Sah-luma! beloved Sah-luma!"--and "Theos! Theos, my
beloved!"--till, moved by a vague tremor of anxiety, he lifted his
drooping eyelids and gazed full in a sort of half-incredulous,
half-reproachful amaze at the musical necromancer who had conjured
up all these apparitions,--what did this wonderful Sarasate know
of his Past?