Produced by David Deley
THE FALLEN STAR, or, THE HISTORY OF A FALSE RELIGION
by E. L. Bulwer
and,
A DISSERTATION ON THE ORIGIN OF EVIL
by Lord Brougham
PUBLISHER’S PREFACE
RELIGION, says Noah Webster in his _American Dictionary of the English
Language_, is derived from “Religo, to bind anew;” and, in this _History
of a False Religion_, our author has shown how easily its votaries were
insnared, deceived, and mentally bound in a labyrinth of falsehood and
error, by a designing knave, who established a new religion and a new
order of priesthood by imposing on their ignorance and credulity.
The history of the origin of one supernatural religion will, with slight
alterations, serve to describe them all. Their claim to credence rests
on the exhibition of so-called miracles--that is, on a violation of
the laws of nature,--for, if religions were founded on the demonstrated
truths of science, there would be no mystery, no supernaturalism, no
miracles, no skepticism, no false religion. We would have only verified
truths and demonstrated facts for the basis of our belief. But this
simple foundation does not satisfy the unreasoning multitude. They
demand signs, portents, mysteries, wonders and miracles for their faith
and the supply of prophets, knaves and impostors has always been found
ample to satisfy this abnormal demand of credulity.
Designing men, even at the present day, find little difficulty in
establishing new systems of faith and belief. Joseph Smith, who invented
the Mormon religion, had more followers and influence in this country
at his death, than the Carpenter’s Son obtained centuries ago from the
unlettered inhabitants of Palestine; and yet Smith achieved his success
among educated people in this so-called enlightened age, while Jesus
taught in an age of semi-barbarism and faith, when both Jews and Pagans
asserted and believed that beasts, birds, reptiles and even fishes
understood human language, were often gifted with human speech, and
sometimes seemed to possess even more than ordinary human intelligence.
They taught that the serpent, using the language of sophistry, beguiled
Eve in Eden, who in turn corrupted Adam, her first and only husband. At
the baptism of Jesus by John in the river Jordan, the voice of a dove
resounded in the heavens, saying, quite audibly and distinctly, “Thou
art my beloved Son; in thee I am well pleased.” Balaam disputed with
his patient beast of burden, on their celebrated journey in the land
of Moab, and the ass proved wiser in the argument that ensued than the
inspired prophet who bestrode him, The great fish Oannes left his
native element and taught philosophy to the Chaldeans on dry land.
One reputable woman, of Jewish lineage,--the mother of an interesting
family--was changed to a pillar of salt in Sodom while another female of
great notoriety known to fame as the celebrated “Witch of Endor,” raised
Samuel from his grave in Ramah. Saint Peter found a shilling in the
mouth of a fish which he caught in the Sea of Galilee, and this lucky
incident enabled the impecunious apostle to pay the “tribute money” in
Capernaum. Another famous Israelite,--so it is said,--broke the record
of balloon ascensions in Judea, and ascended into heaven in a chariot of
fire.
In an age of ignorance wonders abound, prodigies occur, and miracles
become common, The untaught masses are easily deceived, and their
unreasoning credulity enables them to proudly boast of their
unquestioning faith. When their feelings are excited and their passions
aroused by professional evangelists, they even profess to believe that
which they cannot comprehend; and, in the satirical language of Bulwer,
they endeavor to “_assist their ignorance by the conjectures of their
superstition_.”
Among the multitudes of diverse and opposing religions which afflict
mankind, it is self-evident that but one religion may justly claim the
inspiration of truth, and it is equally evident to all reasoning minds
that that religion is the religion of kindness and humanity,--the
religion of noble thoughts and generous deeds,--which removes the
enmities of race and creed, and “makes the whole world kin!” And which,
in its observance is blessed with sympathy, friendship, happiness and
love.
This religion needs no creed, no profession of faith, no incense, no
prayer, no penance, no sacrifice. Its whole duty consists in comforting
the afflicted, assisting the unfortunate, protecting the helpless, and
in honestly fulfilling our duties to our fellow mortals. In the language
of Confucius, the ancient Chinese Sage, it is simply “to behave to
others as I would require others to behave to me.”
“Do unto others as you would they should do unto you,” says Jesus; and
in the Epistle of James, we are told that “Pure Religion and undefiled
before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in
their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.”
The same benign and generous conduct is commended in even grander and
nobler language in the lectures to the French Masonic Lodges: “Love one
another, teach one another, help one another. That is all our doctrine,
all our science, all our law.”
It is believed that the learned dissertation of Lord Brougham on
the _Origin of Evil_, which is annexed to this work, will need no
commendation to ensure its careful perusal.
PETER ECKLER.
THE FALLEN STAR, or, THE HISTORY OF A FALSE RELIGION
by E. L. Bulwer
AN ALLEGORY OF THE STARS.
And the Stars sat, each on his ruby throne, and watched with sleepless
eyes upon the world. It was the night ushering in the new year, a night
on which every star receives from the archangel that then visits the
universal galaxy, its peculiar charge.
The destinies of men and empires are then portioned forth for the coming
year, and, unconsciously to ourselves, our fates become minioned to the
stars.
A hushed and solemn night is that in which the dark gates of time
open to receive the ghost of the dead year, and the young and radiant
stranger rushes forth from the clouded chasms of eternity. On that
night, it is said that there are given to the spirits that we see not, a
privilege and a power; the dead are troubled in their forgotten graves,
and men feast and laugh, while demon and angel are contending for their
doom.
It was night in heaven; all was unutterably silent, the music of the
spheres had paused, and not a sound came from the angels of the stars;
and they who sat upon those shining thrones were three thousand and ten,
each resembling each.
Eternal youth clothed their radiant limbs with celestial beauty, and on
their faces was written the dread of calm, that fearful stillness which
feels not, sympathizes not with the dooms over which it broods.
War, tempest, pestilence, the rise of empires, and their fall, they
ordain, they, compass, unexultant and uncompassionate. The fell and
thrilling crimes that stalk abroad when the world sleeps--the parricide
with his stealthy step, and horrent brow, and lifted knife; the unwifed
mother that glides out and looks behind, and behind, and shudders, and
casts her babe upon the river, and hears the wail, and pities not--the
splash, and does not tremble!
These the starred kings behold--to these they lead the unconscious step;
but the guilt blanches not their lustre, neither doth remorse wither
their unwrinkled youth.
Each star wore a kingly diadem; round the loins of each was a graven
belt, graven with many and mighty signs; and the foot of each was on a
burning ball, and the right arm dropped over the knee as they bent down
from their thrones; they moved not a limb or feature, save the finger
of the right hand, which ever and anon moved slowly, pointing, and
regulated the fates of men as the hand of the dial speaks the career of
time.
One only of the three thousand and ten wore not the same aspect as his
crowned brethren; a star, smaller than the rest, and less luminous. The
countenance of this star was not impressed with the awful calmness of
the others; but there were sullenness and discontent upon his mighty
brow.
And this star said to himself--“Behold, I am created less glorious
than my fellows, and the archangel apportions not to me the same lordly
destinies. Not for me are the dooms of kings and bards, the rulers of
empires, or, yet nobler, the swayers and harmonists of souls. Sluggish
are the spirits and base the lot of the men I am ordained to lead
through a dull life to a fameless grave. And wherefore?--Is it mine own
fault, or is it the fault which is not mine, that I was woven of beams
less glorious than my brethren? Lo! when the archangel comes, I will
bow not my crowned head to his decrees. I will speak, as the ancestral
Lucifer before me: _he_ rebelled because of his glory, _I_ because of
my obscurity; _he_ from the ambition of pride, and _I_ from its
discontent.”
And while the star was thus communing with himself, the upward heavens
were parted as by a long river of light, and adown that stream swiftly,
and without sound, sped the archangel visitor of the stars; his vast
limbs floated in the liquid lustre, and his outspread wings, each plume
the glory of a sun, bore him noiselessly along; but thick clouds veiled
his lustre from the eyes of mortals, and while above all was bathed in
the serenity of his splendor, tempest and storm broke below over the
children of the earth:
“He bowed the heavens and came down, and darkness was under his feet.”
And the stillness on the faces of the stars became yet more still, and
the awfulness was humbled into awe. Right above their thrones paused
the course of the archangel; and his wings stretched from east to west,
overshadowing with the shadow of light the immensity of space. Then
forth in the shining stillness, rolled the dread music of his voice:
and, fulfilling the heraldry of god, to each star he appointed the duty
and the charge, and each star bowed his head yet lower as he heard the
fiat, while his throne rocked and trembled at the majesty of the
word. But at last, when each of the brighter stars had, in succession,
received the mandate, and the viceroyalty over the nations of the earth,
the purple and diadems of kings--the archangel addressed the lesser star
as he sat apart from his fellows.
“Behold,” said the archangel, “the rude tribes of the north, the
fishermen of the river that flows beneath, and the hunters of the
forests, that darken the mountain-tops with verdure! these be thy
charge, and their destinies thy care. Nor deem thou, O star of the
sullen beams, that thy duties are less glorious than the duties of thy
brethren; for the peasant is not less to thy master and mine than the
monarch; nor doth the doom of empires rest more upon the sovereign than
on the herd. The passions and the heart are the dominion of the stars--a
mighty realm; nor less mighty beneath the hide that garbs the shepherd,
than the jewelled robes of eastern kings.”
Then the star lifted his pale front from his breast, and answered the
archangel:
“Lo!” he said, “ages have past, and each year thou hast appointed me to
the same ignoble charge. Release me, I pray thee, from the duties that I
scorn; or, if thou wilt that the lowlier race of men be my charge, give
unto me the charge not of many, but of one, and suffer me to breathe
into him the desire that spurns the valleys of life, and ascends its
steeps. If the humble are given to me, let there be amongst them one
whom I may lead on the mission that shall abase the proud; for, behold,
O Appointer of the Stars, as I have sat for uncounted years upon my
solitary throne, brooding over the things beneath, my spirit hath
gathered wisdom from the changes that shift below. Looking upon the
tribes of earth, I have seen how the multitude are swayed, and tracked
the steps that lead weakness into power; and fain would I be the ruler
of one who, if abased, shall aspire to rule.”
As a sudden cloud over the face of noon was the change on the brow of
the archangel.
“Proud and melancholy star,” said the herald, “thy wish would war with
the courses of the invisible destiny, that, throned far above, sways
and harmonizes all; the source from which the lesser rivers of fate are
eternally gushing through the heart of the universe of things. Thinkest
thou that thy wisdom, of itself, can lead the peasant to become a king?”
And the crowned star gazed undauntedly on the face of the archangel, and
answered:
“Yea!--grant me but one trial!”
Ere the archangel could reply, the farthest centre of the heaven was
rent as by a thunderbolt; and the divine herald covered his face with
his hands, and a voice low and sweet, and mild with the consciousness of
unquestionable power, spoke forth to the repining star:
“The time has arrived when thou mayest have thy wish. Below thee, upon
yon solitary plain, sits a mortal, gloomy as thyself, who, born under
thy influence, may be moulded to thy will.”
The voice ceased, as the voice of a dream. Silence was over the seas of
space, and the archangel, once more borne aloft, slowly soared away into
the farther heaven, to promulgate the divine bidding to the stars of
far-distant worlds.
But the soul of the discontented star exulted within itself; and it
said, “I will call forth a king from the valley of the herdsmen, that
shall trample on the kings subject to my fellows, and render the charge
of the contemned star more glorious than the minions of its favored
brethren; thus shall I revenge neglect--thus shall I prove my claim
hereafter to the heritage of the great of earth!”
At that time, though the world had rolled on for ages, and the
pilgrimage of man had passed through various states of existence, which
our dim traditionary knowledge has not preserved, yet the condition of
our race in the northern hemisphere was then what _we_, in our imperfect
lore, have conceived to be among the earliest.
FORMING A NEW RELIGION.
By a rude and vast pile of stones, the masonry of arts forgotten, a
lonely man sat at midnight, gazing upon the heavens. A storm had just
passed from the earth--the clouds had rolled away, and the high stars
looked down upon the rapid waters of the Rhine; and no sound save the
roar of the waves and the dripping of the rain from the mighty trees,
was heard around the ruined pile: the white sheep lay scattered on the
plain, and slumber with them. He sat watching over the herd, lest the
foes of a neighboring tribe seized them unawares, and thus he communed
with himself:
“The king sits upon his throne, and is honored by a warrior race, and
the warrior exults in the trophies he has won; the step of the huntsman
is bold upon the mountain-top, and his name is sung at night round the
pine-fires, by the lips of the bard; and the bard himself hath honor in
the hail. But I, who belong not to the race of kings, and whose limbs
can bound not to the rapture of war, nor scale the eyries of the eagle
and the haunts of the swift stag; whose hand cannot string the harp, and
whose voice is harsh in the song; _I_ have neither honor nor command,
and men bow not the head as I pass along; yet do I feel within me the
consciousness of a great power that should rule my species--not obey.
My eye pierces the secret hearts of men--I see their thoughts ere their
lips proclaim them; and I scorn, while I see, the weakness and the vices
which I never shared. I laugh at the madness of the warrior--I mock
within my soul at the tyranny of kings. Surely there is something in
man’s nature more fitted to command--more worthy of renoun, than the
sinews of the arm, or the swiftness of the feet, or the accident of
birth!”
As Morven, the son of Osslah, thus mused within himself, still looking
at the heavens, the solitary man beheld a star suddenly shooting from
its place, and speeding through the silent air, till it as suddenly
paused right over the midnight river, and facing the inmate of the pile
of stones.
As he gazed upon the star strange thoughts grew slowly over him. He
drank, as it were, from its solemn aspect, the spirit of a great design.
A dark cloud rapidly passing over the earth, snatched the star from his
sight; but left to his awakened mind the thoughts and the dim scheme
that had come to him as he gazed.
When the sun arose one of his brethren relieved him of his charge over
the herd, and he went away, but not to his father’s home. Musingly he
plunged into the dark and leafless recesses of the winter forest; and
shaped out of his wild thoughts, more palpably and clearly, the outline
of his daring hope.
While thus absorbed, he heard a great noise in the forest, and, fearful
lest the hostile tribe of the Alrich might pass that way, he ascended
one of the loftiest pine-trees, to whose perpetual verdure the winter
had not denied the shelter he sought, and, concealed by its branches, he
looked anxiously forth in the direction whence the noise had proceed.
And IT came--it came with a tramp and a crash, and a crushing tread upon
the crunched boughs and matted leaves that strewed the soil--it came--it
came, the monster that the world now holds no more--the mighty mammoth
of the North!
Slowly it moved in its huge strength along, and its burning eyes
glittered through the gloomy shade: its jaws, falling apart, showed the
grinders with which it snapped asunder the young oaks of the forest;
and the vast tusks, which, curved downward to the midst of its massive
limbs, glistened white and ghastly, curdling the blood of one destined
hereafter to be the dreaded ruler of the men of that distant age.
The livid eyes of the monster fastened on the form of the herdsman,
even amidst the thick darkness of the pine. It paused--it glared upon
him--its jaws opened, and a low deep sound, as of gathering thunder,
seemed to the son of Osslah as the knell of a dreadful grave. But after
glaring on him for some moments, it again, and calmly, pursued its
terrible way, crashing the boughs as it marched along, till the last
sound of its heavy tread died away upon his ear.
Ere yet, however, before Morven had summoned the courage to descend the
tree, he saw the shining of arms through the bare branches of the wood,
and presently a small hand of the hostile Alrich came into sight. He was
perfectly hidden from them; and, listening as they passed him, he heard
one say to another:
“The night covers all things; why attack them by day?”
And he who seemed the chief of the band, answered “Right. To-night, when
they sleep in their city, we will upon them. Lo! they will be drenched
in wine, and fall like sheep into our hands.”
“But where, O chief,” said a third of the band, “shall our men hide
during the day? for there are many hunters among the youth of the
Oestrich tribe, and they might see us in the forest unawares, and arm
their race against our coming.”
“I have prepared for that,” answered the chief. “Is not the dark
cavern of Oderlin at hand? Will it not shelter us from the eyes of the
victims?”
Then the men laughed, and shouting, they went their way adown the
forest.
When they were gone Morven cautiously descended, and, striking into a
broad path, hastened to a vale that lay between the forest and the river
in which was the city where the chief of his country dwelt.
As he passed by the warlike men, giants in that day, who thronged the
streets (if streets they might be called), their half garments parting
from their huge limbs, the quiver at their backs, and the hunting spears
in their hands, they laughed and shouted out, and, pointing to him,
cried:
“Morven, the woman! Morven, the cripple! what dost thou among men?”
For the son of Osslah was small in stature and of slender strength, and
his step had halted from his birth; but he passed through the warriors
unheedingly.
At the outskirts of the city he came upon a tail pile, in which some old
men dwelt by themselves, and counseled the king when times of danger,
or when the failure of the season, the famine, or the drought, perplexed
the ruler, and clouded the savage fronts of his warrior tribe.
They gave the counsels of experience, and when experience failed, they
drew, in their believing ignorance, assurances and omens from the winds
of heaven, the changes of the moon, and the flights of the wandering
birds. Filled (by the voices of the elements, and the variety of
mysteries which ever shift along the face of things, unsolved by the
wonder which pauses not, the fear which believes, and that eternal
reasoning of all experience, which assigns causes to effects) with
the notion of superior powers, _they assisted their ignorance by the
conjectures of their superstition_. But as yet they knew no craft
and practiced no _voluntary_ delusion; they trembled too much at the
mysteries, which had created their faith, to seek to belie them. They
counselled as they believed, and the bold dream had never dared to cross
men thus worn and grey with age, of governing their warriors and their
kings by the wisdom of deceit.
The son of Osslah entered the vast pile with a fearless step, and
approached the place at the upper end of the hall, where the old men sat
in conclave.
“How, base-torn and craven limbed!” cried the eldest, who had been
a noted warrior in his day; “darest thou enter unsummoned amidst the
secret councils of the wise men? Knowest thou not, scatterling! that the
penalty is death?”
“Slay me, if thou wilt,” answered Morven “but hear!
“As I sat last night in the ruined palace of our ancient kings, tending,
as my father bade me, the sheep that grazed around, lest the fierce
tribe of Alrich should descend unseen from the mountains upon the herd,
a storm came darkly on; and when the storm, had ceased and I looked
above on the sky, I saw a star descend from its height towards me, and
a voice from the star said, ‘Son of Osslah, leave thy herd and seek the
council of the wise men, and say unto them, that they take thee as one
of their number, or that sudden will be the destruction of them, and
theirs.’
“But I had courage to answer the voice, and I said, ‘Mock not the poor
son of the herdsman. Behold they will kill me if I utter so rash a word,
for I am poor and valueless in the eyes of the tribe of Oestrich, and
the great in deeds and the grey of hair alone sit in the council of the
wise men.’
“Then the voice said, ‘Do my bidding, and I will give thee a token that
thou comest from the powers that sway the seasons and sail upon the
eagles of the winds. Say unto the wise men that this very night if they
refuse to receive thee of their band, evil shall fall upon them, and the
morrow shall dawn in blood.’
“Then the voice ceased, and a cloud passed over the star; and I communed
with myself, and came, O dread fathers, mournfully unto you. For I
feared that ye would smite me because of my bold tongue, and that ye
would, sentence me to the death, in that I asked what may scarce be
given even to the sons of kings.”
Then the grim elders looked one at the other and marvelled much, nor
knew they what answer they should make to the herdsman’s son.
At length one of the wise men said, “Surely there must be truth in the
son of Osslah, for he would not dare to falsify the great lights of
heaven. If he had given unto men the words of the star, verily we
might doubt the truth. But who would brave the vengeance of the gods of
night?”
Then the elders shook their heads approvingly; but one answered and
said:
“Shall we take the herdsman’s son as our equal? No!”
The name of the man who thus answered was Darvan, and his words were
pleasing to the elders.
But Morven spoke out:
“Of a truth, O councilors of kings! I look not to be an equal with
yourselves. Enough if I tend the gates of your palace, and serve you as
the son of Osslah may serve;” and he bowed his head humbly as he spoke.
Then said the chief of the elders, for he was wiser than the others,
“But how wilt thou deliver us from the evil that is to come? Doubtless
the star hath informed thee of the service thou canst render to us if we
take thee into our palace, as well as the ill that will fall on us if we
refuse.”
Morven answered meekly: “Surely, if thou acceptest thy servant, the star
will teach him that which may requite thee; but as yet he knows only
what he has uttered.”
Then the sages bade him withdraw, and they communed with themselves and
they differed much; but though fierce men and bold at the war cry of a
human foe, they shuddered at the prophecy of a star. So they resolved
to take the son of Osslah, and suffer him to keep the gate of the
council-hall.
He heard their decree and towed his head, and went to the gate, and sat
down by it in silence.
And the sun went down in the west, and the first stats of the twilight
began to glimmer, when Morven started front his seat, and a trembling
appeared to seize his limbs. His lips foamed; an agony and a fear
possessed him; he writhed as a man whom the spear of a foeman has
pierced with a mortal wound, and suddenly fell upon his face on the
stony earth.
The elders approached him; wondering, they lifted him up. He slowly
recovered as from a swoon; his eyes rolled wildly.
“Heard ye not the voice of the star?” he said.
And the chief of the elders answered, “Nay, we heard no sound.”
Then Morven sighed heavily.
“To me only the word was given. Summon instantly, O councilors of the
king! summon the armed men, and all the youth of the tribe, and let them
take the sword and the spear, and follow thy servant. For lo! the star
hath announced to him that the foe shall fall into our hands as the wild
beast of the forests.”
The son of Osslah spoke with the voice of command, and the elders were
amazed.
“Why, pause ye?” he cried. “Do the gods of the night lie? On my head
rest the peril if I deceive ye.”
Then the elders communed together; and they went forth and summoned the
men of arms, and all the young of the tribe; and each man took the sword
and the spear, and Morven also. And the son of Osslah walked first,
still looking up at the star; and he motioned them to be silent, and
move with a stealthy step.
So they went through the thickest of the forest, till they came to the
mouth of a great cave, overgrown with aged and matted trees, and it was
called the cave of Oderlin; and he bade the leaders place the armed men
on either side the cave, to the right and to the left, among the hushes.
So they watched silently till the night deepened, when they heard a
noise in the cave and the sound of feet, and forth came an armed man;
and the spear of Morven pierced him, and he fell dead at the mouth of
the cave. Another and another, and both fell! Then loud and long was
heard the warcry of Alrich, and forth poured, as a stream over a narrow
bed, the river of armed men.
And the Sons of Oestrich fell upon them, and the foe were sorely
perplexed and terrified by the suddenness of the battle and the darkness
of the night; and there was a great slaughter.
And when the morning came, the children of Oestrich counted the slain,
and found the leader of Alrich and the chief men of the tribe amongst
them, and great was the joy thereof.
So they went back in triumph to the city, and they carded the brave son
of Osslah on their shoulders, and shouted forth, “Glory to the servant
of the star.”
And Morven dwelt in the council of the wise men.
Now the king of the tribe had one daughter, and she was stately amongst
the women of the tribe, and fair to look upon. And Morven gazed upon her
with the eyes of love, but he did not dare to speak.
Now the son of Osslah laughed secretly at the foolishness of men; he
loved them not, for they had mocked him; he honored them not, for he had
blinded the wisest of their elders.
He shunned their feasts and merriment and lived apart and solitary.
The austerity of his life increased the mysterious homage which his
commune with the stars had won him, and the boldest of the warriors
bowed his head to the favorite of the gods.
One day he was wandering by the side of the river, and he saw a large
bird of prey rise from the earth, and give chase to a hawk that had not
yet gained the full strength of its wings. From his youth the solitary
Morven had loved to watch, in the great forests and by the banks of the
mighty stream, the habits of the things which nature had submitted to
man; and looking now on the birds, he said to himself, “Thus is it ever;
by cunning or by strength each thing wishes to master its kind.”
While thus, moralizing, the larger bird had stricken down the hawk, and
it fell terrified and panting at his feet.
Morven took the hawk in his hands, and the vulture shrieked above him,
wheeling nearer and nearer to its protected prey; but Morven scared away
the vulture, and placing the hawk in his bosom, he carried it home, and
tended it carefully, and fed it from his hand until it had regained its
strength; and the hawk knew him, and followed him as a dog.
And Morven said, smiling to himself, “Behold, _the credulous fools
around me put faith in the flight and motions of birds_. I will teach
this poor hawk to minister to my ends.”
So he tamed the bird, and tutored it according to its nature; but he
concealed it carefully from others, and cherished it in secret.
The king of the country was old and like to die, and the eyes of the
tribe were turned to his two sons, nor knew they which was the worthier
to reign.
And Morven passing through the forest one evening, saw the younger of
the two, who was a great hunter, sitting mournfully under an oak, and
looking with musing eyes upon the ground.
“Wherefore musest thou, O swift footed Siror?” said the son of Osslah;
“and wherefore art thou sad?”
“Thou canst not assist me,” answered the prince, sternly; “take thy
way.”
“Nay,” answered Morven, “thou knowest not what thou sayest; am I not the
favorite of the stars?”
“Away, I am no graybeard whom the approach of death makes doting: talk
not to inc of the stars; I know only the things that my eye sees and my
ear drinks in.”
“Hush,” said Morven, solemnly, and covering his face; “hush! lest the
heavens avenge thy rashness. But, behold, the stars have given unto me
to pierce the secret hearts of others; and I can tell thee the thoughts
of thine.”
“Speak out, base-born!”
“Thou art the younger of two, and thy name is less known in war than the
name of thy brother; yet wouldst thou desire to be set over his head,
and to sit at the high seat of thy father?”
The young man turned pale.
“Thou hast truth in thy lips,” said he, with a faltering voice.
“Not from me, but from the stars, descends the truth.”
“Can the stars grant my wish?”
“They can; let us meet to-morrow.” Thus saying, Morven passed into the
forest.
The next day, at noon, they met again.
“I have consulted the gods of night, and they have given me the power
that I prayed for, but on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“That thou sacrifice thy sister on their altars thou must build up a
heap of stones, and take thy sister into the wood, and lay her on the
pile, and plunge thy sword into her heart; so only shalt then reign.”
The prince shuddered, and started to his feet, and shook his spear at
the pale front of Morven.
“Tremble,” said the son of Osslah, with a loud voice. “Hark to the gods,
who threaten thee with death, that thou hast dared to lift thine arm
against their servant!”
As he spoke, the thunder rolled above; for one of the frequent storms of
the early summer was about to break.
The spear dropped from the prince’s hand; he sat down and cast his eyes
on the ground.
“Wilt thou do the bidding of the stars, and reign?” said Morven.
“I will!” cried Siror, with a desperate voice.
“This evening, then, when the sun sets, thou wilt lead her hither,
alone; I may not attend thee. Now, let us pile the stones.”
Silently the huntsman bent his vast strength to the fragments of rock
that Morven pointed to him, and they built the altar, and went their
way.
And beautiful is the dying of the great sum when the last song of the
birds fades into the lap of silence; when the islands of the cloud are
bathed in light, and the first star springs up over the grave of day.
“Whither leadest thou my steps, my brother?” said Gina; “and why doth
thy lip quiver? and why dost thou tarn away thy face?”
“Is not the forest beautiful; doth it not tempt us forth, my sister?”
“And wherefore are those heaps of stone piled together?”
“Let others answer; _I_ piled them not.”
“Thou tremblest brother: we will return.”
“Not so; by those stones is a bird that my shaft pierced to-day; a bird
of beautiful plumage that I slew for thee.”
“We are by the pile: where hast thou laid the bird?”
“Here!” cried Siror; and he seized the maiden in his arms, and, casting
her on the rude altar, he drew forth his sword to smite her to the
heart.
Right over the stones rose a giant oak, the growth of immemorial ages;
and from the oak, or from the heavens; broke forth a loud and solemn
voice:
“Strike not, son of kings! the stars forbear their own: the maiden thou
shalt not slay; yet shalt thou reign over the race of Oestrich; and thou
shall give Orna as a bride to the favorite of the stars. Arise, and go
thy way!”
The voice ceased: the terror of Orna had overpowered for a time the
springs of life; and Siror bore her home through the wood in his strong
arms.
“Alas!” said Morven, when, at the next day, he again met the aspiring
prince; “alas! the stars have ordained me a lot which my heart desires
not; for I, lonely of life, and crippled of shape, am insensible to the
fires of love; and ever, as thou and thy tribe know, I have shunned the
eyes of women, for the maidens laughed at my halting step and my sullen
features; and so in my youth I learned betimes to banish all thoughts
of love. But since they told me (as they declared to _thee_), that only
through that marriage, thou, O beloved prince! canst obtain thy fatter’s
plumed crown, I yield me to their will.”
“But,” said the prince, “not until I am king can I give thee my sister
in marriage; for thou knowest that my sire would smite me to the dust,
if I asked him to give the flower of our race to the son of the herdsman
Osslah.”
“Thou speakest the words of truth. Go home and fear not: but, when thou
art king, the sacrifice must be made, and Orna mine. Alas! how can
I dare to lift my eyes to her! But so ordain the dread kings of the
night!--Who shall gainsay their word?”
“The day that sees me king, sees Orna thine,” answered the prince.
Morven walked forth, as was his wont, alone; and he said to himself,
“the king is old, yet may he live long between me and mine hope!” and he
began to cast in his mind how he might shorten the time.
Thus absorbed, he wandered on so unheedingly, that night advanced, and
he had lost his path among the thick woods, and knew not how to regain
his home; so he lay down quietly beneath a tree, and rested till day
dawned.
Then hunger came upon him and he searched among the bushes for such
simple roots as those with which, for he was ever careless of food, he
was used to appease the cravings of nature.
He found, among other more familiar herbs and roots, a red berry of
a sweetish taste, which he had never observed before. He ate of it
sparingly, and had not proceeded far in the wood before he found his
eyes swim, and a deadly sickness come over him. For several hours he lay
convulsed on the ground expecting death; but the gaunt spareness of his
frame, and his unvarying abstinence, prevailed over the poison, and he
recovered slowly, and after great anguish: but he went with feeble steps
back to the spot where the berries grew, and, plucking several, hid them
in his bosom, and by nightfall regained the city.
The next day he went forth among his father’s herds, and seizing a lamb,
forced some of the berries into its stomach, and the lamb, escaping, ran
away, and fell down dead. Then Morven took some more of the berries and
boiled them down, and mixed the juice with wine, and he gave the wine in
secret to one of his father’s servants, and the servant died.
Then Morven sought the king, and coming into his presence alone, he said
unto him, “How fares my lord?”
The king sat on a couch, made of the skins of wolves, and his eye was
glassy and dim; but vast were his aged limbs and huge was his stature,
and he had been taller by a head than the children of men, and none
living could bend the bow he had bent in youth. Grey, gaunt and worn, as
some mighty bones that are dug at times from the bosom of the earth--a
relic of the strength of old.
And the king said, faintly, and with a ghastly laugh:
“The men of my years fare ill. What avails my strength? Better had I
been born a cripple like thee, so should I have had nothing to lament in
growing old.”
The red flash passed over Morven’s brow; but he bent humbly--
“O king, what if I could give thee back thy youth? What if I could
restore to thee the vigor which distinguished thee above the sons of
men, when the warriors of Alrich fell like grass before thy sword?”
Then the king uplifted his dull eyes, and he said:
“What meanest thou, son of Osslah? Surely I hear much of thy great
wisdom, and how thou speakest nightly with the stars. Can the gods of
the night give unto thee the secret to make the old young?”
“Tempt them not by doubt,” said Morven, reverently. “All things are
possible to the rulers of the dark hour; and, lo! the star that loves
thy servant spake to him at the dead of night, and said, ‘Arise, and go
unto the king; and tell him that the stars honor the tribe of Oestrich,
and remember how the king bent his bow against the Sons of Alrich;
wherefore, look thou under the stone that lies to the right of thy
dwelling--even beside the pine-tree, and thou shalt see a vessel of
clay, and in the vessel thou wilt find a sweet liquid, that shall make
the king thy master forget his age forever.’
“Therefore, my lord, when the morning rose I went forth, and looked
under the stone, and behold the vessel of clay; and I have brought it
hither to my lord, the king.”
“Quick--slave--quick! that I may drink and regain my youth!”
“Nay, listen, O king! farther said the star to me:
“‘It is only at night, when the stars have power, that this their gift
will avail; wherefore, the king must wait till the hush of the midnight,
when the moon is high, and then may he mingle the liquid with his wine.
“‘And he must reveal to none that he hath received the gift from the
hand of the servant of the stars. For THEY do their work in secret, and
when men sleep; therefore they love not the babble of mouths, and he who
reveals their benefits shall surely die.’”
“Fear not,” said the king, grasping the vessel; “none shall know: and,
behold, I will rise on the morrow; and my two sons--wrangling for my
crown--verily, I shall be younger than they!”
Then the king laughed loud; and he scarcely thanked the servant of the
stars, neither did he promise him reward: for the kings in those days
had little thought--save for themselves.
And Morven said to him, “Shall I not attend my lord? for without me,
perchance, the drug might fail of its effect.”
“Aye,” said the king, “rest here.”
“Nay,” replied Morven; “thy servants will marvel and talk much, if they
see the son of Osslah sojourning in thy palace. So would the displeasure
of the gods of night perchance be incurred. Suffer that the lesser door
of the palace be unbarred, so that at the night hour, when the moon is
midway in the heavens, I may steal unseen into thy chamber, and mix the
liquid with thy wine.”
“So be it,” said the king. “Thou art wise though thy limbs are crooked
and curt; and the stars might have chosen a taller man.”
Then the king laughed again; and Morven laughed too, but there was
danger in the mirth of the son of Osslah.
The night had began to wane, and the inhabitants of Oestrich were buried
in deep sleep, when, hark! a sharp voice was heard crying out in the
streets, “Woe, woe! Awake ye sons of Oestrich--woe!”
Then forth, wild--haggard--alarmed--spear in hand, rushed the giant sons
of the rugged tribe, and they saw a man on a height in the middle of the
city, shrieking, “Woe!” and it was Morven, the son of Osslah!
And he said unto them, as they gathered round him, “Men and warriors,
tremble as ye hear.
“The star of the west hath spoken to me and thus saith the star:
“‘Evil shall fall upon the kingly house of Oestrich--yea, ere the
morning dawns; wherefore, go thou mourning into the streets, and wake
the inhabitants to woe!’
“So I rose and did the bidding of the star.”
And while Morven was yet speaking, a servant of the king’s house ran up
to the crowd, crying loudly:
“The king is dead!”
So they went into the palace and found the king stark upon his couch,
and his huge limbs all cramped and crippled by the pangs of death,
and his hands clenched as if in menace of a foe--the foe of all living
flesh!
Then fear came on the gazers, and they looked on Morven with a deeper
awe than the boldest warrior would have called forth: and they bore him
back to the council-hall of the wise men, wailing and clashing their
arms in woe, and shouting, ever and anon:
“_Honor to Morven, the prophet!_”
And that was the first time the word PROPHET was ever used in those
countries.
At noon, on the third day from the king’s death, Siror sought Morven,
and he said:
“Lo, my father is no more, and the people meet this evening at sunset
to elect his successor, and the warriors and the young men will surely
choose my brother, for he is more known in war. Fail me not, therefore.”
“Peace, boy!” said Morven, sternly; “nor dare to question the truth of
the gods of night.”
For Morven now began to presume on his power among the people, and to
speak as rulers speak, even to the sons of kings.
And the voice silenced the fiery Siror, nor dared he to reply.
“Behold,” said Morven, taking up a chaplet of colored plumes, “wear
this on thy head, and put on a brave face--for the people like a hopeful
spirit--and go down with thy brother to the place where the new king is
to be chosen, and leave the rest to the stars.
“But, above all things, forget not that chaplet; it has been blessed by
the gods of night.”
The prince took the chaplet and returned home.
It was evening and the warriors and chiefs of the tribe were assembled
in the place where the new king was to be elected.
And the voices of the many favored Prince Voltoch, the brother of Siror,
for he had slain twelve foeman with his spear; and verily, in those
days, that was a great virtue in a king.
Suddenly there was a shout in the streets, and the people cried out:
“Way for Morven, the prophet, the prophet!”
For the people held the son of Osslah in even greater respect than did
the chiefs.
Now, since he had become of note, Morven had assumed a majesty of air
which the son of the herdsman knew not in his earlier days; and albeit
his stature was short, and his limbs halted, yet his countenance was
grave and high.
He only of the tribe wore a garment that swept the ground, and his head
was bare, and his long black hair descended to his girdle, and rarely
was change or human passion seen in his calm aspect.
He feasted not, nor drank wine, nor was his presence frequent in the
streets.
He laughed not, neither did he smile, save when alone in the forest--and
then he laughed at the follies of his tribe.
So he walked slowly through the crowd, neither turning to the left nor
to the right, as the crowd gave way; and he supported his steps with a
staff of the knotted pine.
And when he came to the place where the chiefs were met, and the two
princes stood in the centre, he bade the people around him proclaim
silence.
Then mounting on a huge fragment of rock, he thus spake to the
multitude:
“Princes, wantons and bards! ye, O council of the wise men! and ye, O
hunters of the forests, and snarers of the fishes of the streams! harken
to Morven, the son of Osslah.
“Ye know that I am lowly of race, and weak of limb; but did I not give
into your hands the tribe of Alrich, and did ye not slay them in the
dead of night with a great slaughter?
“Surely, ye must know that this of himself did not the herdsman’s son;
surely he was but the agent of the bright gods that love the children of
Oestrich.
“Three nights since, when slumber was on the earth, was not my voice
heard in the streets?
“Did I not proclaim woe to the kingly house of Oestrich? and verily the
dark arm had fallen on the bosom of the mighty, that is no more.
“Could I have dreamed this thing merely in a dream, or was I not as the
voice of the bright gods that watch over the tribes of Oestrich?
“Wherefore, O men and chiefs! scorn not the son of Osslah, but listen to
his words; for are they not the wisdom of the stars?
“Behold, last night, I sat alone in the valley, and the trees were
hushed around, and not a breath stirred; and I looked upon the star that
counsels the son of Osslah; and I said:
“‘Dread conqueror of the cloud! thou that bathest thy beauty in the
streams and piercest the pine-boughs with thy presence; behold thy
servant grieved because the mighty one hath passed away, and many foes
surround the houses of my brethren; and it is well that they should have
a king valiant and prosperous in war, the cherished of the stars.
“‘Wherefore, O star! as thou gavest into our hands the warriors
of Alrich, and didst warn us of the fall of the oak of our tribe,
wherefore, I pray thee, give unto the people a token that they may
choose that king whom the gods of the night prefer!’
“Then a low voice sweeter than the music of the bard, stole along the
silence.
“‘Thy love for thy race is grateful to the stars of night: go then, son
of Osslah, and seek the meeting of the chiefs and the people to choose a
king, and tell them not to scorn thee because thou art slow to the chase
and little known in war; for the stars give thee wisdom as a recompense
for all.
“‘Say unto the people that as the wise men of the council shape their
lessons by the flight of birds, so by the flight of birds stall a token
be given unto them, and they shall choose their kings.
“‘For,’ said, the star of right, ‘the birds are children of the winds,
they pass to and fro along the ocean of the air, and visit the clouds
that are the warships of the gods.
“‘And their music is but broken melodies which they gleam from the harps
above.
“‘Are they not the messengers of the storm?
“‘Ere the stream chafes against the bank, and the rain descends, know ye
not, by the wail of birds and their low circles over the earth, that the
tempest is at hand?
“‘Wherefore, wisely do ye deem that the children of the air are the fit
interpreters between the sons of men and the lords of the world above.
“‘Say then to the people and the chiefs, that they shall take, from
among the doves that nest in the roof of the palace, a white dove, and
they shall let it loose in the air, and verily the gods of the night
shall deem the dove as a prayer coming from the people, and they shall
send a messenger to grant the prayer and give to the tribes of Oestrich
a king worthy of themselves.’
“With that the star spoke no more.”
Then the friends of Voltoch murmured among themselves, and they said,
“Shall this man dictate to us who shall be king?”
But the people and the warriors shouted:
“Listen to the star; do we not give or deny battle according as the
bird flies--shall we not by the same token choose him by whom the battle
should be led?”
And the thing seemed natural to them, for it was after the custom of the
tribe.
Then they took one of the doves that built in the roof of the palace,
and they bought it to the spot where Morven stood, and he, looking up to
the stars and muttering to himself, released the bird.
There was a copse of trees a little distance from the spot, and as the
dove ascended, a hawk suddenly rose from the copse and pursued the dove;
and the dove was terrified, and soared circling high above the crowd,
when, lo, the hawk, poising itself one moment on its wings, swooped with
a sudden swoop, and, abandoning its prey, alighted on the plumed head of
Siror.
“Behold,” cried Morven in a loud voice, “behold your king!”
“Hail, all hail the king!” shouted the people. “All hail the chosen of
the stars!”
Then Morven lifted his right hand, and the hawk left the prince, and
alighted on Morven’s shoulder.
“Bird of the gods!” said he, reverently, “hast thou not a secret message
for my ear?” Then the hawk put its beak to Morven’s ear, and Morven
bowed his head submissively; and the hawk rested with Morven from that
moment and would not be scared away.
And Morven said:
“The stars have sent me this bird, that, in the day-time, when I see
them not, we may never be without a counsellor in distress.”
So Siror was made king, and Maven the son of Osslah was constrained by
the king’s will to take Orna for his wife; and the people and the chiefs
honored Morven, the prophet, above all the elders of the tribe.
One day Morven said unto himself, musing, “Am I not already equal with
the king? nay, is not the king my servant? did I not place him over the
heads of his brothers? am I not, therefore, more fit to reign than he
is? shall I not push him from his seat?
“It is a troublesome and stormy office to reign over the wild men of
Oestrich, to feast in the crowded hail, and to lead die warriors to the
fray.