*CHAPTER VI*
"I found among the letters waiting attention, one from Mr. Soudin,
thanking me most warmly for my action in saving his daughter from Lord
Vancome, to whom he referred in language that hardly bears repetition.
It was a diplomatic letter, striving to shield Vera as much as possible,
and endeavouring to make out that she had not only left home against her
will, but even hinting that she had been drugged, as he said that since
her return with Mrs. Freshfield she had been unable to give any account
of what had happened, and that she evidently looked upon Vancome with
absolute detestation. This satisfied me that the influence which I had
exercised had been successful, and the girl remembered nothing about the
marriage. It was also plain that her father had no idea of the truth.
You may well conceive that my position was both a painful and difficult
one. I decided to go at once to Scotland, and hoped that during the
journey I might be able to form some plans for future action.
"There was also a note from Mr. Marsden, saying that his scheme was
progressing favourably, and that he considered it would be better to
make Lord Vancome a bankrupt; he had got possession of all his bills,
and now only awaited instructions before taking final action.
"Without replying to either of the letters, I started for the North by
the night train, and slept nearly the whole time, instead of devoting it
to unravelling the entangled skein, which was probably the better plan,
for I was thoroughly tired. Consequently I arrived at Heather Lodge
refreshed, but without having the least idea of what course to pursue.
"Mr. Soudin had gone out, and I found Vera sitting alone, engaged in
reading a novel. She seemed pleased to see me, and we sat for some time
talking on trivial matters, which gave me an opportunity of reading her
thoughts, and thus finding out whether the memory of her journey to
Liverpool had returned. With some relief I soon discovered that, though
she had a dim remembrance of having intended to run away from home with
Vancome, and of a journey with some unknown lady, the intervening period
was still a blank; and, moreover, that she had been persuaded even this
remembrance was but a delusion owing to illness. After her return she
had suffered from a slight fever, brought on no doubt by the excitement;
and during recovery it was easy to make her believe that what
remembrance she retained was simply the effect of delirium. Though she
now disliked Vancome, it was not difficult to perceive that she had not
forgotten our former quarrel. Her father had apparently been urging her
strongly to accept my suit and had prevailed, but there was no sign that
she loved me; and this fact, considering the strange position in which
we were placed, ought to have caused me more relief than it did.
"I found it impossible to convince my heart that, considering the
circumstances, such a husband had any right over this girl; though at
the same time I fully realized how all hope of my marrying her was at an
end, and that my love must in future be unselfish, desiring neither any
return of affection nor other reward.
"You may think that from the time I became acquainted with the marriage,
it was my duty to stamp out all feeling of affection and accept this as
a sign that I had previously been mistaken in supposing our lives were
for all time to influence each other, or that I was still responsible
for the girl’s future. In fact, considering her character, one so
placed might well, from a selfish point of view, have rejoiced in
regaining freedom from a burden that could only bring pain and trouble
through life. Such views have become the accepted canons of society,
and in most cases it would be foolish to fight against them. Marriage in
itself is a wise law fitted to the present condition of our lower animal
natures, and to tamper with it is not only a dangerous, but a retrograde
step. For it shadows forth the nobler union of souls, and in some few
cases may even bring a foretaste of future joy.
"On the other hand, it is equally false to assume that this legal or
so-called religious tie has any necessary spiritual significance; and
while at the present day the bond is often held too lightly, there are
some, who, conscious of nobler feelings and aspirations, regard wedlock
as a divine union of souls. This view, though correct as an ideal, finds
too seldom its realization; hence arises no little confusion of ideas
and much unnecessary trouble of heart. The scoffers ask, with the
Sadducees of old, which man’s wife shall such a one be in the
resurrection, forgetting that the body is nothing, and that the passions
of the body are nothing but the trivialities of a transitory condition.
Such things are intended to seem important to us whilst on earth; and
bear an apparent significance out of all proportion to their spiritual
importance. Thus we live in a world full of heaven-sent delusions. No
observation of other lives can destroy them, for each man or woman must
learn the lesson by experience.
"Think of all that has been written and all that has been said about
love, and yet how year by year we see the same picture reproduced. When
first a girl attracts a youth, or may be a man of mature years, what are
his feelings? If only he can get her to consent to be his wife, he
believes that his whole existence must be changed to one of joy; that in
her company all other interests will be as nothing; that it must be
impossible to tire of her presence, to be a moment absent from her
without pain, that they will in fact continue lovers to the end. If he
looks round on his married acquaintances it is nothing to him that he
can find no such state of existence; others can never have felt as he
feels, for no one had like cause. He may be half conscious that he is
being tricked by his emotions, but he prefers not to question his mind
on the subject. Nature is too strong for reason, and having her work to
accomplish, fulfils her mission."
I was surprised to hear Sydney speaking in this way, and interrupted him
by asking if he did not believe in the possibility of an enduring and
true love on earth.
"Yes," he replied, "most certainly; but not in this fascination lasting.
True love can only be tested by those who have learned the lesson of
self-renunciation. If you wish to know whether you love or not, face
these questions--Is it for myself this possession is desired, or am I
striving only for the happiness of the one beloved? Should she change,
and the beauty, if there is beauty, turn to the most repulsive ugliness;
her apparent saintliness to sin; her affection to hatred, or her sanity
to madness, should I still love her? If you can truly say this, and
have sufficient imagination to realize fully the meaning of the change,
yours is love; and if in after times, when trial comes, your
self-confidence leaves you, such love may even then rest assured it is
eternal, because it is of God. But we see this devotion more often
exhibited in the passion of parent for child than in love between man
and wife. The reason of this being that the latter relationship begins
with the expectation of a love to be returned, and the former with a
ministry of tenderness which can at the time receive no active response.
It is ever owing to seemingly adverse circumstances that the finer
qualities of man’s nature are drawn forth, and I have more reason to be
thankful for the misery and perplexity which my love for Vera brought
into my life than for all the hours of happiness which I have known.
Much, however, as we may appreciate these disguised blessings in
retrospect, it does not make them more agreeable to pass through; and
this time which I spent at Heather Lodge was perhaps, with one
exception, the most miserable period of my life.
"I felt that it was absolutely necessary to take the first opportunity
of letting Mr. Soudin know the truth. As soon as he returned, and I had
a chance of speaking to him alone, I started on the unpleasant task. He
listened patiently to the outline of the story till I came to the
marriage-licence, then turning livid with anger he lost all
self-control.
"’I don’t believe it!’ he said. ’It is outrageous--monstrous! Why, the
girl’s not of age. He would have been bound to get my consent. You
must know that the thing’s out of the question!’
"When I explained that the age had been altered, he grew still more
furious.
"’I’ll have him up for perjury!’ he cried. ’Get the marriage annulled,
for after all it was never consummated; the thing’s preposterous. He
drugs the girl, gets her into his power, commits perjury, and hopes
thereby to live on me for the rest of his life; but he is mistaken; the
thing shall be put right at once!’
"As soon as he was a little calmer I tried to reason with him, and show
that it would be no easy matter to prove that Vera was not a consenting
party.
"’Had you not better,’ I asked, ’go to Liverpool, and see the registrar
before whom the marriage took place, and also examine the signatures? A
prosecution for perjury might possibly fall upon your daughter if you
are not careful how you act.’
"At last he consented to take the course suggested, on the condition
that I did not leave until his return, and the following morning he
started for Liverpool.
"I was left practically alone with Vera, her mother being still confined
nearly all day to her room. I decided to let my powers, as far as
possible, lie dormant, and to watch her only as I should have done
before the development of my new sense; to see her as any other man
might, and endeavour to judge how much of her inner character was
obvious to those who came in contact with her in ordinary life.
"It is always easy thus to throw off a possession that has been recently
acquired, and it is often a relief to do so. My animal nature gained in
strength the moment it was released from the new spiritual bondage.
Moreover, my companion seemed conscious of a similar relief; I had never
seen her so bright and happy; she became at once a merry, playful child,
recklessly mischievous and fascinatingly coquettish.
"In the afternoon, the day after my arrival, we walked together over the
moors to a little village by the sea. Though the autumn was now far
advanced, it was one of those Indian summer days in which each act of
breathing becomes a separate joy, when every soft breath of wind helps
to intoxicate the brain. I felt as if with every mile I walked a year
of life dropped from me, till, when we reached the seashore, I had
arrived at boyhood and had cast away all care, all thoughts of the past.
"The girl beside me was no longer the wife of an enemy, but my
child-playfellow; our spirits acted and reacted upon each other. We
were alone with the seagulls and the waves. The cries of the former and
the music of the latter harmonized with the reckless exultation that
overwhelmed us. Barefooted we waded in the chilly water, or chased each
other over the warm sand with laughter and shouting. Among the rocks
and caves we hunted for curious sea-creatures, sadly missing our
childhood’s buckets in which to place the captives. Near at hand was a
rocky basin, which became our aquarium; hither we brought, with mingling
sounds of exultation and fear, the wriggling captives, pride in each new
treasure demanding appreciation from the less fortunate.
"The clear pool was soon teeming with live creatures thus reluctantly
brought into close contact, and through the forest of delicate seaweed
we watched some fierce and deadly battles; whilst the more lymphatic
species lay around, allowing their bodies with equal complacency to be
made the stepping-stones to victory or the shelter from defeat.
"Thus in childish pleasure the hours went by, till, tired out with our
play, we sat down side by side to rest.
"’Whatever would people think if they could see us?’ Vera said, covering
up her bare feet in the warm sand.
"It may have been her action, or something in the tone of her voice. In
a moment the happy, boyish feeling left me. The years began to hurry
back, the innocent pleasure to fade, and in its place the passion of
manhood came with overwhelming power, baffling and mocking me. I looked
at my companion--child-playmate no longer. Her face was flushed, her
uncovered head a mass of soft, light, waving curls; her eyes sparkled
with merry mischief, but beneath the mischief there was that look I had
surprised before, the reflection of my own feeling on the girl’s nature;
but how differently did it affect me now! When first I had seen it,
Vera had promised to be my wife; now she was the wife of another. It
seemed almost incredible that a mere legal formality, such as her
marriage had been, could so entirely alter our relationship; but still
stranger how the knowledge of this alteration strengthened all the lower
passions of my nature, at the expense of the higher. Every feeling that
had hitherto been sanctified by love was now sacrilege against that
love. I made a desperate effort to regain the mastery over my weakness;
but, alas! I had kindled a new fire of temptation.
"Vera came close to me, and laying her hand on mine, said--’Alan, I
think that I will forgive you, after all. I like you better to-day than
ever before.’
"What had I done? My object having been to help this girl, my want of
success was pitiable. Having deprived her of the knowledge of her
marriage, and caused her to hate her husband, I was now bringing her
once more beneath the influence of a passion which could only end in
misery and degradation. Yet, as I looked at her, it seemed impossible to
withstand the temptation of taking her once more, if only once, into my
arms. She was waiting for my kiss of reconciliation; and more than
this, of the torrent of love long restrained. I was powerless, and
knowing that no strength of my own could save me, with one last cry for
help, I gave over the contest. At the same instant I was free.
"Of all the strange mysteries connected with our nature, nothing is more
remarkable than what is called the efficacy of prayer. As long as a man
fights against his temptations he but increases their force, especially
in such a contest as this. But should his will be really against the
temptation, a path is always open. Let him once acknowledge his own
weakness, and allow for a moment his spirit to cry for assistance, and
he will find himself lifted from the burden of the body, in a way that
those who have never experienced the sensation would think impossible.
One thing only is necessary, but that is essential: the cry must be an
honest desire of the heart, and not a weak prompting of habit.
"It is not that strength to resist the evil is sent as an answer to the
prayer, but that the temptation is utterly removed, the force of the
body being, as it were, for the time annihilated; so at least have I
ever found it, and so it proved in this case. I could look now at my
companion without fear, and love her with a love that I knew was
innocent. The very remembrance of my past thoughts filled me with a
wondering horror. Summoning all my strength of will, I strove to recall
to her mind the page which had been obliterated, and to bring back her
natural feeling towards Vancome, which had changed to hatred.
"Whilst doing this, I repeated the story, hoping thereby to assist her
memory, but, from a then unknown reason, I failed utterly, and the only
impression which she formed was that I had gone mad. When I tried to
take her hand in mine so as to gain more influence over her will, she
rose and left me.
"I could see her in the distance evidently getting ready to start for
home. I dared not follow her, knowing that had I done so, she would in
her fear have run bare-headed and bare-footed over the moor, rather than
let me come near her.
"She, however, seemed undecided in her mind, and for the first time that
day I began to be conscious of her thoughts. Seeing that I had made no
attempt to follow her, or to exhibit any further signs of insanity, the
sudden fear had evidently diminished, and she began to fancy that
probably I had only been fooling her for the pleasure of seeing if she
could be made to believe the story. At length, being satisfied that
this was the explanation, she began to walk slowly towards the place
where I was sitting, and then called to me, saying that it was time to
go back. I answered that I was quite ready, but that it seemed a pity
to go so soon. My voice still further reassuring her, she came and
looked over the rock, saying--
"’So you thought you could take me in with that rubbish, did you?’
"’Well,’ I replied, ’that was my intention, but as it’s evidently of no
use, I must give in. Your imagination is not so easily influenced as I
thought.’
"’I should think not,’ she said. ’But you acted very well, and I really
thought for the moment you had gone mad. It was very nasty of you to
spoil our happy day in that manner. I suppose you did it in revenge.’
"’No, I did not, dear,’ I answered. ’But come and sit down. We will
say no more about it.’
"She did as I asked her, protesting all the while that I was a brute;
but in five minutes I had managed to change the subject, and to get her
to take my hand. Then without speaking I willed her to sleep. Slowly
she leant further back; her head sank down, and in less than a minute
she was quite unconscious.
"There would, I now knew, be no difficulty in impressing on her mind
what had previously been obliterated, and moreover, there was plenty of
time to consider whether it might not be well to keep her still in
ignorance of some part of her experience with Vancome. But thinking the
matter over, I decided it would not under the circumstances be right to
interfere with the past. So I willed her to remember all, and to awake
with the same feelings towards her husband as those which she felt
before she left the ship; moreover, that she should not only understand
what course I had pursued, but my reason for pursuing it, and my
ignorance of the marriage.
"In her hypnotic condition she was able to answer my questions, and I
felt satisfied that when she recovered, she would be able clearly to
recall the past.
"Once more I laid my hand over her eyes, and bade her sleep, it being
easier and safer to recall the patient to a natural condition, from a
state of placid, rather than active, mesmerism. But on trying to rouse
her, I was again destined to failure. It was impossible to bring her
back to consciousness, or even to influence her now in any way. She lay
in one of those cataleptic trances, which no power then known could
break, and which form the chief danger connected with all such
experiments. Even now, though I should have little difficulty in
dealing with a case of this kind, I should be loath, except in
emergency, or where the life of the body was endangered, to recall the
spirit which is for the time free from its bodily trammels. But in
those days I was unable to do so.
"At length alarmed, I took her in my arms and carried her to the little
fishing village, where with some difficulty I managed to find a vehicle
to drive back to Heather Lodge. It is not necessary for me to go into
the details of the two anxious days which followed. During this time
all the efforts, not only of the local doctor, but of two consulting
physicians, had no effect in rousing Vera from her unnatural sleep. On
the third day, however, she awoke, and seemed little the worse for her
experience.
"Mr. Soudin had, in the meantime, returned in a state of the greatest
despondency, and as soon as the news of his daughter’s recovery had
relieved my mind of an anxiety, which had made it impossible for me to
think of other matters, I had a long talk with him.
"His pride and reserve were broken, and I was relieved to find that he
intended to make a full confession of his present monetary difficulties.
In Liverpool his worst fears were realized. Not only had he seen Vera’s
signature, but the registrar had told him that as far as it was possible
to judge, his daughter acted without the slightest constraint, and had
seemed perfectly reasonable and collected. ’She had given her age as
twenty-one, on oath, and had answered all his questions rationally. A
solicitor, when consulted, had given Mr. Soudin little hope of the
marriage being annulled, and had warned him that while the action would
probably lead to no good, it might possibly end in his daughter and
son-in-law being arrested for perjury. If, however, he continued, she
possessed means of her own, it might be wise to make an application to
have this money settled upon her.
"’Money!’ cried Mr. Soudin, after repeating the lawyer’s words, ’it is
little use troubling about that. Not only has she not a penny, but I may
as well tell you at once she never will have. I am ruined!’ and saying
this he broke down, burying his face in his hands.
"’I knew this,’ I replied, ’some time ago. You might as well have shown
sufficient confidence in me to mention it before; knowing that I should,
for your child’s sake, have been only too glad to help you. But I
suppose it seemed safer to let the marriage take place first.’
"’It’s all very well,’ he gasped, still shaken with the sobs which he
could not suppress, ’for you to talk in that way now that the marriage
is impossible, and you are free to leave us all in our misery!
Generosity, I have found, is only to be trusted when the personal
interest of the giver is securely tied up with that of the recipient.’
"I felt inclined to retort that he, in common with most men, judged
others from the standpoint which he had adopted for personal usage, but
the abject misery of the man, and the fact that he was the father of
Vera, restrained me, and I said--
"’It is useless to talk of the past, which is irrevocable. The question
to decide is what can be done in the future.’
"’The workhouse is open,’ he muttered, ’and I can hardly see how the
matter can interest you. Vancome is a beggar--we are all beggars. A
curse has come upon us since you first entered the house, and I
sometimes think that you brought it. You seem to possess some damnable
power which I neither understand nor wish any longer to experience. It
will be a relief to know that you have left the house.’
"’I feel sure you will later on regret such an accusation,’ I answered,
’considering that you bought your bank shares before you ever saw me,
and that the bank has been insolvent for years. Moreover, as you know,
I did all in my power to prevent your daughter from marrying Lord
Vancome. I have, however, a proposition to make. It seems quite clear
that I cannot marry Vera, but there is no reason why I should not be
able to help her. She is now Lady Vancome, and though her husband is
penniless, the property which he once owned is in my hands, and will
before long be legally transferred to me. I have thought the matter
carefully over, and decided on certain conditions to settle these
estates upon your daughter for life. The income which she will derive
from them will be sufficient not only to enable her to keep up Vancome’s
late home, but also to live there very comfortably.’
"My companion was staring at me in blank amazement, and at last he
said--’But to be candid, what are you to gain by this sacrifice? You
can hardly expect me to believe that you intend to hand over property
worth ￡100,000 for the benefit of a man you hate.’
"I did not reply for a moment; it was not the man’s words but his
thoughts which made me mad with rage; for I saw that he had not only
placed the worst motive on my action, but that in his extremity he was
prepared to accept my offer even at the price of his daughter’s honour.
"Seeing that I was silent, he continued--’Of course you will have to pay
Vancome an allowance for keeping out of the way.’ Then a bright idea
seemed to strike him, and he continued--’Why not pay him a good round
sum to run off with some one else, and let us get a divorce? It is only
a matter of price, and desertion is as good a plea as cruelty.’
"’This may be your idea of what is best,’ I said, ’but somehow it does
not appeal to me, nor would it fit in with my plans. I am going to
consult my lawyer; and if it should be necessary, so as to make it easy
for your daughter to protect herself, as well as the property, from her
husband, I may have to make Vancome an allowance. But should Vera
desire it, I shall place no obstacle in the way of his returning to his
old home; my only wish is to leave her independent. As soon as these
arrangements are made, I shall go abroad, and it is hardly probable you
will see me again for some years.’
"Having said this, and feeling it would be impossible to restrain my
temper any longer, I left the room. Had I remained with Mr. Soudin I
should most likely have read some of the plans which he doubtless then
was formulating, and so have been able to guard Vera more wisely, and
prevent much of the evil which followed.
"I felt utterly depressed and puzzled. Little as I had cared for or
believed in this man, the coarse selfishness of his nature, the want of
even natural affection nauseated me. Life itself, mankind, the Creator
of all things, seem degraded by the very existence of such a being. As
the unselfish love of a father for his child is the chosen illustration
of Godhead, so one in whom there is no sign of this love stands on the
outer edge of darkness; doubly damned by the chaos into which he has
wandered, and the reckless disregard of that one pure ray which might
have been his salvation.
"The next day, before leaving for London, I had a long talk with Vera.
She was now able to remember all that had passed during her absence from
home, and was evidently very nervous, wondering how I should receive her
after what had happened.
"’Mr. Sydney,’ she began, ’I suppose you hate me, and perhaps your
hatred is deserved. I can only say that I am very sorry for acting
towards you in this way, and wish you good-bye.’
"’I am not angry with you, Vera,’ I replied. ’We all must live to a
certain extent as our natures lead us. Tell me, do you love your
husband?’
"’I am not sure,’ she answered; ’I suppose so, or I should not have
consented to run away with him; but you see it seems long ago, and as I
knew him for so short a time, it is difficult to be certain. It was
wrong of you to make me forget all about the marriage, but you thought
you were doing it for the best. How could you fancy that I should have
gone with him if we had not been married first?’
"’I thought he might have deceived you in some way,’ I said. ’But I
acknowledge that my act was wrong, and ask your forgiveness. I have
done all that is possible to make amends, but your father will explain
about these details; and remember I shall always be ready to help you in
any way. You will not forget, will you, that whatever happens I am your
friend, and if you send for me I will come at once?’
"I was placing all the restraint I could on my manner, but I felt sick
and giddy with the strain. At no time before had I loved this girl as
now, when I had to leave her. She seemed to be conscious of this, but
did not take the right way to help me, for coming nearer, and laying her
hand on my arm, she said--
"’Alan, must you go? I want you to be near me. When you are by, I feel
stronger and better, and oh! at times I am so lonely; the world seems so
cold, so big, so evil, and I can trust you. Do stop, any way, till my
husband comes back; that is the least you might do, considering that it
was through your action we were parted.’
"’I dare not!’ I answered. ’If it is pain to part now, how much worse
it would be for me then! Can you not see also that it would be taking
an unfair advantage of your husband? What I did at first, was done
ignorantly, and it was necessary after that to undo as much of the evil
as possible, but now I ought to go.’
"’Oh! I don’t know what I shall do!’ she cried, and the tears began to
come into her eyes.
"I might have been excused for thinking that at last she loved me; but I
was not mistaken, I knew her nature too well. Such a girl might weep
upon her lover’s neck, feeling for the moment as though her heart were
breaking; and the next week under other influence throw him over for
some one near at hand, with the most formal apology, and feeling hardly
a sensation of pain. I felt sure that as soon as I had left, she would
forget, but the knowledge did not bring, as perhaps it should have done,
relief; rather it added to my pain. What hold could any one have upon
such an undeveloped character? In all such cases we can only wait till
the spirit is born. A flower is beautiful, we see it opening its
delicate coloured petals in the sunlight; the fairy butterfly is
hovering near, bearing the germ of fruition, but it passes by, and we
must wait. As some blossoms, once as beautiful as their more fortunate
neighbours, fall to the ground, having apparently missed, though we know
not why, the purpose of their existence here, so some men and women live
and die, having missed the object of their lives. The angel of love
touches them not; he hovers near, they feel the breath from his wings,
but the birth of the spirit is reserved for a future seed-time, and the
harvest is a failure.
"I left Scotland, and after making the money arrangements referred to,
threw my whole heart and mind into my work, trying to drown other
thoughts by the interest which each added power brought. Up to this
time, as you will have seen, my gift was a mixed blessing,
half-developed, and therefore more likely to lead to evil than to good;
but now I began to make progress, to feel my feet a little; every week
brought new and startling discoveries, power which I had hardly dared to
hope for; wisdom that humbled me to the dust. But as the story of my
year’s work abroad, and the events that happened to Vera during the same
period in England will take me some time to relate, I shall leave them
till your next visit. I have already tired you enough, we had better
now rest a few hours, and if you like I will send you to sleep by
telling a short fairy story. It has been a habit of mine since boyhood
to mentally talk myself into dream-land, and without doubt you will find
my tale have an equally soothing effect upon your own mind."
So I lay back, courting sleep, whilst Sydney told me this fairy story.
"In a world like, yet unlike, our own, might once have been found men
fashioned as are the people of earth, save that they dwelt in profound
silence; they heard neither the sweet singing of birds, nor the roar of
their mighty torrents, nor the sweet murmuring of the streams.
Communication of thought was carried from one to the other by the
movement of the lips, by the sense of touch, or by writing; for though
their world was full of sound, they as yet had not the gift of hearing.
The time had not come when they should listen to the voices of the other
spirits who wandered unseen in their midst, for the songs of the fairy
folk contained much of the wisdom which it was better for the deaf and
dumb to discover for themselves through the lessons of life. Yet at
times, as the years rolled by, from every part of their world came
messages of growing superstitions, of a professed consciousness of
something which their written language failed clearly to convey, and of
impressions which had been experienced, but which were outside the
region of science. The wise men were greatly indignant at the growth of
this seeming folly; they challenged the dreamers to appear before them,
and prove the truth of their statements. Then one came forward, an old
man, and he made signs to those around; and this was the
interpretation--
"’Behold! as I stood among the hills, the heavens grew black around me,
and great drops of rain fell on either side; out of these dark clouds
there passed downwards to the earth a great fork-shaped flame which fell
on a lofty tree; as it touched the great branches they split asunder,
falling to the ground and leaving behind only a broken and shattered
trunk.’
"And the wise men answered, ’Though such things happen but seldom, and
in but few parts of the world, there is nothing new in what you have
told us.’
"But the man continued, ’It is not of that I came to speak; wonderful as
it seemeth to me, even though it may have happened in such manner
before, and though you may have given the mystery a name. But when this
flash had passed, I felt, yet I did not feel, something strike me; it
was as though I had received some mighty blow, yet nothing touched me,
and my head throbbed with pain, and my thoughts became confused.’
"But the wise men laughing, replied, ’It seemeth to us that the
confusion of thought hath still continued.’
"Then the old man brought forth a piece of flat metal, and a great iron
rod which he used for some work; and he began once more to address his
audience.
"’Yet,’ he said, ’I have felt this sensation before, but not so
strongly, even when I have struck these two, one against the other,’ and
he thereupon hit the metal plate a great blow. ’It is there!’ he cried;
’once more I felt it pass through my brain.’
"Some of those present seemed also to feel a like sensation, and one
rose up, addressing the assembly thus--
"’For many years reports of strange sensations have come to us from all
countries and people; moreover, these reports all bear a great
resemblance to each other. Is it not well that we should investigate
the matter more fully than we have done hitherto?’
"But the greater number of those present was opposed to him, answering,
that already these so-called impressions had been tested from time to
time by scientific research, and that it had been proved beyond question
that they were all founded on delusion, as they could not by any
possibility have reached the brain through the sense of touch or sight
or smell; and that, therefore, necessarily they did not reach it at all.
"So the man returned to his own place; but some of the common people,
who read the report and had known similar impressions, were strengthened
in a belief, which was gaining ground year by year, namely, that the
wise men might perhaps not know everything, and that the learned of the
future might even laugh at the learned of to-day, as the latter now
mocked their predecessors.
"So the years went by, and the reports of wonders became more numerous
and more confusing. Some said that they had language conveyed to them,
which as yet they could hardly understand, and that this happened even
when their eyes were closed and no person was near to them. A few even
believed that they could partially understand this language, and these
were placed under restraint as madmen.
"During all this turmoil, a child was born, which grew up fair and
beautiful to look upon. None taught him, yet he became exceeding wise,
though his knowledge was not the knowledge of the savants. He was born
with the power of hearing developed, and soon learned the fairy
language; and the bright spirits taught him more wisdom than was to be
found in all the books of his world. But when he tried to convey to
those around the glory of sound, the sweetness of the fairies’ songs,
the whispering melody of the leaves when the wind played with them, or
the ceaseless music of the waves, he found that there were no words in
the language capable of expressing his meaning, and had to try by
parables to give even a faint idea of the inexpressible.
"Moreover, most of his companions mocked him, but a few listened, even
those who had some foretaste of his gift, and these believed that he was
a god.
"As his fame spread abroad, men came from the ends of the earth to
learn, if possible, the language that needed no signs, that passed
mysteriously and invisibly from brain to brain. He found it possible to
awaken in a few of these the dormant sense which all possessed, and such
were able to work miracles among their fellows.
"And the savants stormed, and then when they found it impossible any
longer to ignore the new power, they themselves began to give names to
the mysteries; and having done this they were consoled, considering that
they had thereby exorcised the supernatural.
"But the waves beat no longer unheard upon the beach; and the birds are
loved by many for their voices as well as for their plumage. The mother
hears her child’s cry, and the lover the footstep of the beloved.
"Some, however, are still deaf, and others have not yet learned the
language which is breathed so sweetly in the music of the fairies’
songs."
*PART II*
*CHAPTER VII*
It was some weeks before Alan Sydney again returned to the story of his
life. We often met, however, during this interval, both at his house
and at mine. He seemed anxious to let me become better acquainted with
his views and strange philosophy before describing any more of his
experiences. So interesting did I find these discussions that, though
still wishing to hear the conclusion of the tale, I did not press him to
continue it. One evening, however, our conversation led back to the
subject. We had been for some time discussing Buddhism; I had pointed
out that many of the conclusions at which he had arrived resembled in
certain ways the views professed by Eastern adepts.
"Truth is to be found in every faith," he replied, "and these occult
philosophers have cultivated one side of knowledge which has been
overlooked by European scientists. At the same time any one who has
taken the trouble personally to examine the foundation on which the
reports of marvellous powers possessed by certain Orientals are based
will, I feel sure, have arrived at the following conclusions--
"Firstly, the metaphysical knowledge of these men is far in advance of
their physical power to make use of it. In other words, they know many
secret laws of nature, but usually fail in manipulating these laws to
any useful purpose, often to any purpose at all. The reason for this is
obvious. They have cultivated one part only of the sixth sense, and
have done even this at the expense both of body and mind; instead of
perfecting every faculty and keeping their personality evenly balanced,
they have become deformed. It is as if a man hitherto deaf and suddenly
conscious of the sense of hearing, should shut himself tip in a dark
room and refuse to receive any impressions save those conveyed by sound;
he would probably make considerable progress in hearing, but he would
necessarily suffer deterioration in his other faculties.
"The knowledge and foretaste of power, which, through bodily and mental
weakness, they can seldom exercise, have led many of the more
unscrupulous seers to resort to trickery. Now and again they are able
to perform what men call a miracle, and probably every wonder that we
read of has at one time or another been performed, more or less
accidentally, by some Eastern ascetic, but knowing the powers that do
exist, and being unable to control them at will, they too frequently,
either for profit or fame, turn for assistance to the most barefaced
impostures.
"The spiritualists are not free from the same reproach. It is safe to
assume that as any one who possesses even a slight knowledge of how to
make use of the powers of a spiritual sense, will neither require money
nor desire fame, all spiritualistic or theosophic exhibitions, which
have either of these ends in view, should be regarded with distrust. At
the same time they should be interesting as exhibiting a craving on the
part of the performer and also of his audience for manifestations of
unrevealed yet partially conceived truths.
"Trickery is only powerful when it apes reality. The love of the
mysterious is after all a craving for felt possibilities. A conjurer,
scoffing at the supernatural which he strives to imitate, would lose his
occupation if he possessed sufficient eloquence to convince his audience
that there was no truth foreshadowed by means of his dexterity. As the
girl-child loves to play with her doll because the maternal instinct
lies undeveloped in her breast, so do men love to play with magic,
foretasting therein a part of the power which some day shall be
perfected. They both know better, but for the moment prefer a true
illuminating fancy to a false disillusionizing fact. Yet when some
motive of self-interest provokes the deception, only harm can come; the
parable is then turned into the lie, the prophet into the charlatan.
"Not long after my arrival in India I met a man who interested me
greatly. Up to this time I had little knowledge of Buddhism, and the
outcome which I had seen of this religion had given me so far an
unfavourable impression.
"Mr. Kanwick was of Scotch descent, though he had been born in Calcutta,
and lived in India the greater part of his life. When we met he was a
wealthy bachelor of about fifty-five years of age, with no occupation to
tie him down. His knowledge of Oriental subjects was well founded, for
he had spent most of his life in studying the manners, dialects, and
religions of Asia.
"He was at this time engaged in writing a book on the Vedic language and
religion, and I travelled with him in the East for many months, passing
from one place to another. We visited many of the countries in Central
Asia, and whilst he was engaged in studying one of the oldest and purest
forms of worship, I was busy perfecting a power which, even in the
earliest times, the Vedic philosophers seemed to have reached after.
Were I to describe the strange experiences through which we passed, how,
disguised, we found our way into sacred shrines never before visited by
Europeans, or the various dangers we encountered, in many of which we
narrowly escaped death, it would occupy all the time we are likely to
have together for the next six months. Aided by the sixth sense, by
free use of our wealth, and by my companion’s knowledge of the various
dialects and customs of the people, we were able to overcome
difficulties which would have been impossibilities to ordinary
travellers. One evening, however, we met with an experience which
brought my travels to an abrupt termination, and in which my companion
lost his life.
"We had been staying a few days in a small town, and, having grown
over-confident, we determined to visit a temple which was situated about
five miles away. It was a foolhardy enterprise, for not only had no
unbeliever ever been permitted to approach this place, but none save the
priests of a special caste were allowed even to enter the sacred
enclosure in which it had been built. I must, however, tell you how we
came to find out this place, for it was so situated that but for an
accident we might have lived for years in the neighbourhood without
suspecting its existence.
"The country here is of very curious formation. On either side of the
city perpendicular rocks rise out of the plain forming miniature
table-lands, some hardly larger than a tomb, some with room enough on
them for small farms, with well-marked natural boundaries, sheer
precipices varying from fifty to over three hundred feet. The surface
of these rocks is very irregular, and often thickly coated with soil in
which grow many tropical trees.
"In a deep hollow on one of the largest and most wooded of these
plateaus this temple has been built, but owing to its situation it is
quite impossible to see any part of it until the top of the surrounding
rock has been reached.
"Now we had as a guide a high-caste Brahmin named Hinma. We had adopted
a method of paying him by results, which had proved so far highly
satisfactory; the more information he gave us, or the more interesting
the place to which he led us, the greater the number of rupees he
received at the end of the month. It so happened that for some weeks
past the value of his services had been small, and when he received his
pay I saw that he was dissatisfied, and read this pass through his mind:
"’_If I only could show the temple at Aphar! But it is forbidden. I
dare not even mention its existence; moreover, it would be absolutely
impossible for me, and still more for the foreigners, to get even a
distant sight of the place._’
"I answered his thought aloud. ’Why are you afraid to speak to me of
this temple? Do you not yet know that we are the all-powerful to whom
silver is as nothing, and against whom none dare lift their hands?’
"’The Sahib is as a god among men,’ he replied, ’but the god of this
temple is more powerful than he. Thou seest into the hidden thoughts of
men, but he sees all things, and his vengeance is terrible. None save
his special servants may see his dwelling and live. Moreover to mention
the name thereof is to cause his anger!’
"So great was the man’s fear of this deity that it took me an hour
before I could get the information required, and then it was chiefly
owing to the fact that his thoughts were less under his control than his
tongue.
"I reported my discovery to Kanwick, and on the following morning,
unaccompanied by our guide, we went to reconnoitre, and if possible to
devise some plan by which we might at least get a glimpse of this
mysterious abode of the god.
"There was little difficulty in finding the rocky citadel which
concealed this temple. We walked all round the foot of the precipice
which cut it off from the plain. The cliffs which rose above us varied
from two hundred to three hundred feet in height, and I judged that the
surface on the top of them must extend over at least one hundred acres.
But it seemed absolutely impossible to reach the higher land, though we
examined the sides of the rock most carefully. There was no indication
of a path which even a goat could climb; whoever ascended or descended
must do so apparently by the aid of a rope or ladder let down from
above. The plain on the side furthest from the town was thickly wooded,
and not wishing to excite the curiosity of any one who might be watching
us, we sat down in the shadow of some trees to talk the matter over.
The very mystery of the place tempted us the more to make some desperate
effort to overcome the difficulty of exploration.
"We were sitting about two hundred yards from the cliff, by the side of
a stream which, we had noticed, flowed from a fissure in the rock.
Whilst thus resting and talking, a strange thing happened. The noisy
stream which flowed at our feet suddenly became silent; we looked down
in surprise to find that now only a little trickle of water passed over
its rocky bed. My companion jumped up in excitement and looked towards
the crevice from which the water came. Signing to me to rise quietly,
he pointed to the cliff which we could see through a gap in the trees.
From out the fissure in the rock which a few minutes before was filled
with water, we saw two men pass, clad in the yellow robes of mendicant
priests. As they came out of the channel and made their way into the
wood, the water once more dashed out of the rock with more than usual
force, so that in another minute the stream at our feet was a roaring
torrent.
"’The key is in our hands if we can use it,’ my friend said as soon as
he had satisfied himself that the priests were out of hearing. ’That is
the gateway, and no doubt the inhabitants have some arrangement inside by which they can for a short time divert the water into a reservoir,and thereby open the passage or close it at will.’ |
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