‘This is no king, but the cripple Morven;’ and some of the race of Siror
might slay me secretly.
“But can I not be greater far than kings, and continue to choose and
govern them, living as now at mine own ease?
“_Verily, the stars shall give me a new palace, and many subjects_.”
Among the wise men was Darvan; and Morven feared him, for his eye often
sought the movements of the son of Osslah.
And Morven said “It were better to TRUST this man than to BLIND, for
surely I want a helpmate and a friend.”
So he said to the wise man as he sat alone watching the setting sun:
“It seemeth to me, O Darvan! I that we ought to build a great pile in
honor of the stars and the pile should be more glorious than all the
palaces of the chiefs and the palaces of the king; for are not the stars
our masters?
“And thou and I should be the chief dwellers in this new palace, and we
would serve the gods of night, and fatten their altars with the choicest
of the herd, and the freshest of the fruits of the earth.”
And Darvan said:
“Thou speakest as becomes the servant of the stars. But will the people
help to build the pile, for they are a war-like race and they love not
toil?”
And Morven answered:
“_Doubtless the stars will ordain the work to be done. Fear not_.”
“In truth thou art a wondrous man, thy words ever come to pass,” answered
Darvan; “and I wish thou wouldest teach me, friend, the language of the
stars.”
“Assuredly if thou servest me thou shalt know,” answered the proud
Morven; and Darvan was secretly wroth that the son of the herdsman
should command the service of an elder and a chief.
And when Morven returned to his wife he found her weeping much.
Now she loved the son of Osslah with an exceeding love, for he was not
savage and fierce as the men she had known, and she was proud of his
fame among the tribe; and he took her in his arms and kissed her, and
asked her why she wept.
Then she told him that her brother, the king, had visited her and had
spoken bitter words of Morven.
“He taketh from me the affection of my people,” said Siror, “and
blindeth them with lies. And since he hath made me king, what if he take
my kingdom from me? Verily, a new tale of the stars might undo the old.”
And the king had ordered her to keep watch on Morven’s secrecy, and to
see whether truth was in him when he boasted of his commune with the
Powers of Night.
But Orna loved Morven better than Siror, therefore she told her husband
all.
And Morven resented the king’s ingratitude, and was troubled much, for
a king is a powerful foe; but tie comforted Orna, and bade her dissemble
and complain also of him to her brother, so that he might confide to her
unsuspectingly whatsoever he might design against Morven.
There was a cave by Morven’s house in which he kept the sacred hawk,
and wherein he secretly trained and nurtured other birds against future
need, and the door of the cave was always barred.
And one day he was thus engaged when he beheld a chink in the wall, that
he had never noted before, and the sun came playfully in; and while he
looked he perceived the sunbeam was darkened, and presently he saw a
human face peering in through the chink.
And Morven trembled, for he knew he had been watched.
Morven ran hastily from the cave, but the spy had disappeared among the
trees, and Morven went straight to the chamber of Darvan and sat himself
down.
Darvan did not return home till late, and he started and turned pale
when he saw Morven.
But Morven greeted him as a brother, and bade him to a feast, which, for
the first time, he purposed giving at the full of the moon, in honor of
the stars.
And going out of Darvan’s chamber, he returned to his wife, and bade her
hair, and go at the dawn of day to the king, her brother, and complain
bitterly of Morven’s treatment, and pluck the black schemes from the
breast of the king. “For surely,” said he, “Darvan hath lied to thy
brother, and some evil awaits me that I would fain know.”
So the next morning Orna sought the king, and she said:
“The herdsman’s son hath reviled me, and spoken harsh words to me; stall
I not be avenged?”
Then the king stamped his feet and shook his mighty sword.
“Surely thou shalt be avenged, for I have learned from one of the elders
that which convinceth me that the man hath lied to the people, and the
base-born shall surely die.
“Yea, the first time that he goeth alone into the forest my brother and
I will fall upon him and smite him to the death.”
And with this comfort Siror dismissed Orna.
And Orna flung herself at the feet of her husband.
“Fly now, O my beloved!--fly into the forests afar from my brethren, or
surely the sword of Siror will end thy days.”
Then the son of Osslab folded his arms, and seemed buried in black
thoughts; nor did he heed the voice of Orna, until again and again she
had implored him to fly.
“Fly!” he said at length. “Nay, I was doubting what punishment the stars
should pour down upon our foe. Let warriors fly. Morven, the prophet,
conquers by arms mightier than the sword.”
Nevertheless Morven was perplexed in his mind, and knew not how to save
himself from the vengeance of the king.
Now, while Morven was musing hopelessly, he heard a roar of waters;
and behold the river, for it was now the end of autumn, had burst its
bounds, and was rushing along the valley to the houses of the city.
And now the men of the tribe, and the women, and the children, came
running, and with shrieks to Morven’s house, crying:
“Behold the river has burst upon us!--Save us, O ruler of the stars!”
Then the sudden thought broke upon Morven and he resolved to risk his
fate upon one desperate scheme.
And he came out from the house calm and sad, and he said:
“Ye know not what ye ask; I cannot save ye from this peril: ye have
brought it on yourselves.”
And they cried: “How? O son of Osslah--we are ignorant of our crime.”
And he answered:
“Go down to the king’s palace and wait before it, and surely I will
follow ye, and ye shall learn wherefore ye have incurred this punishment
from the gods.”
Then the crowd rolled murmuring back, as a receding sea; and when it was
gone from the place, Morven went alone to the house of Darvan, which was
next his own: and Darvan was greatly terrified, for he was of a great
age, and had no children, neither friends, and he feared that he could
not of himself escape the waters.
And Morven said to him, soothingly:
“Lo, the people love me, and I will see that thou art saved for verily
thou hast been friendly to me, and done me much service with the king.”
And as he thus spake, Morven opened the door of the house and looked
forth, and saw that they were quite alone; then he seized the old man by
the throat, and ceased not his grip till he was quite dead.
And leaving the body of the elder on the floor, Morven, stole from the
house and shut the gate.
And as he was going to his cave he mused a little while, when, hearing
the mighty roar of the waves advancing, and afar off the shrieks of
women, he lifted up his head, and said proudly:
“No! in this hour terror alone shall be my slave; I will use no art save
the power of my soul.”
So, leaning on his pine staff, he strode down to the palace.
And it was now evening, and many of the men held torches, that they
might see each other’s faces in the universal fear.
Red flashed the quivering flames on the dark robes and pale front of
Morven; and he seemed mightier than the rest, because his face alone was
calm amidst the tumult.
And louder and hoarser came the roar of the waters; and swift rusted the
shades of night over the hastening tide.
And Morven said in a stern voice:
“Where is the king; and wherefore is he absent from his people in the
hour of dread?”
Then the gate of the palace opened; and, behold Siror was sitting in the
hall by the vast pine-fire and his brother by his side, and his chiefs
around him: for they would not deign to come amongst the crowd at the
bidding of the herdsman’s son.
Then Morven, standing upon a rock above the heads of the people (the
same rack whereon he had proclaimed the king), thus spake:
“Ye desired to know, O sons of Oestrich! wherefore the river hath burst
its bounds, and the peril hath come upon you.
“Learn then, that the stars resent as the foulest of human crimes an
insult to their servants and delegates below.
“Ye are all aware of the manner of life of Morven, whom ye have surnamed
the Prophet!
“He harms not man or beast; he lives alone; and, far from the wild joys
of the warrior tribe, he worships in awe and fear the Powers of Night!
“So is he able to advise ye of the coming danger--so is he able to save
ye from the foe. Thus are your huntsmen swift and your warriors bold;
and thus do your cattle bring forth their young, and the earth its
fruits.
“What think ye, and what do ye ask to hear?
“Listen, men of Oestrich!--they have laid snares for my life; and there
are amongst you those who have whetted the sword against the bosom that
is only filled with love for you.
“Therefore have the stern lords of heaven loosened the chains of the
river--therefore doth this evil menace ye.
“Neither will it pass away until they who dig the pit for the servant of
the stars are buried in the same.”
Then, by the red torches, the faces of the men looked fierce and
threatening; and ten thousand voices shouted forth:
“Name them who conspired against thy life, O holy prophet! and surely
they shall be torn limb from limb.”
And Morven turned aside, and they saw that he wept bitterly; and he
said:
“Ye have asked me, and I have answered: but now scarce will ye believe
the foe that I have provoked against me; and by the heavens themselves
I swear, that if my death would satisfy their fury, nor bring down
upon yourselves, and your children’s children, the anger of the throned
stars, gladly would I give my bosom to the knife. Yes,” he cried,
lifting up his voice, and pointing his shadowy arm towards the hall
where the king sat by the pine-fire--“yes, thou whom by my voice the
stars chose above thy brother--yes, Siror, the guilty one! take thy
sword, and come hither--strike, if thou hast the heart to strike, the
Prophet of the Gods!”
The king started to his feet, and the crowd were hushed in a shuddering
silence.
Morven resumed:
“Know then, O men of Oestrich, that Siror and Voltoch, his brother, and
Darvan, the elder of the wise men, have purposed to slay your prophet,
even at such hour as when alone he seeks the shade of the forest to
devise new benefits for you. Let the king deny it, if he can!”
Then Voltoch, of the giant limbs, strode forth from the hall, and his
spear quivered in his hand.
“Rightly hast thou spoken, base son of my father’s herdsman! and for
thy sins shalt thou surely die; for thou liest when thou speakest of thy
power with the stars, and thou laughest at the folly of them who hear
thee: wherefore put him to death.”
Then the chiefs in the hall clashed their arms, and rushed forth to slay
the son of Osslah.
But he, stretching his unarmed hands on high, exclaimed:
“Hear him, O dread ones of the night--hark how he blasphemeth.”
Then the crowd took up the word, and cried:
“He blasphemeth--he blasphemeth against the prophet!”
But the king and the chiefs who hated Morven, because of his power with
the people, rushed into the crowd; and the crowd were irresolute, nor
knew they how to act, for never yet had they rebelled against their
chiefs, and they feared alike the prophet and the king.
And Siror cried:
“Summon Darvan to us, for he bath watched the steps of Morven, and he
shall lift the veil from my people’s eyes.”
Then three of the swift of foot started forth to the house of Darvan.
And Morven cried out with a loud voice:
“Hark! thus saith the star who, now riding through yonder cloud breaks
forth upon my eyes--‘For the lie that the elder hath uttered against my
servant, the curse of the stars shall fall upon him.’ Seek, and as ye
find him, so may ye find ever the foes of Morven and the gods.”
A chill and an icy fear fell over the crowd, and even the cheek of Siror
grew pale; and Morven, erect and dark above the waving torches, stood
motionless with folded arms.
And hark--far and fast came on the war-steeds of the wave--the people
heard them marching to the land, and tossing their white manes in the
roaring wind.
“Lo, as ye listen,” said Morven, calmly, “the river sweeps on. Haste,
for the gods will have a victim, be it your prophet or your king.”
“Slave!” shouted Siror, and his spear left his hand, and far above the
heads of the crowd sped hissing beside the dark form of Morven, and rent
the trunk of the oak behind.
Then the people, wroth at the danger of their beloved seer, uttered a
wild yell, and gathered round him with brandished swords, facing their
chieftains and their king.
But at that instant, ere the war had broken forth among the tribe, the
three warriors returned, and they bore Darvan on their shoulders, and
laid him at the feet of the king, and they said tremblingly:
“Thus found we the elder in the centre of his own hall.”
And the people saw that Darvan was a corpse, and that the prediction of
Morven was thus verified.
“So perish the enemies of Morven and the Stars!” cried the son of
Osslah. And the people echoed the cry.
Then the fury of Siror was at its height, and waving his sword above his
head, he plunged into the crowd:
“Thy blood, base-born, or mine.”
“So be it!” answered Morven, quailing not. “People, smite the
blasphemer. Hark how the river pours down upon your children and your
hearths. On, on, or ye perish!”
And Siror fell, pierced by five hundred spears.
“Smite! smite!” cried Morven, as the chiefs of the royal house gathered
round the king.
And the clash of swords, and the gleam of spears, and the cries of the
dying, and the yell of the trampling people, mingled with the roar of
the elements, and the voices of the rushing wave.
Three hundred of the chiefs perished that night by the swords of
their own tribe. And the last cry of the victors was, “_Morven the
prophet_--MORVEN THE KING!”
And the son of Osslah, seeing the waves now spreading over the valley,
led Orna his wife, and the men of Oestrich, their women and their
children, to a high mount, where they waited the dawning sun.
But Orna sat apart and wept bitterly, for her brothers were no more, and
her race had perished from the earth.
And Morven sought to comfort her in vain.
When the morning rose, they saw that the river had overspread the
greater part of the city, and now stayed its course among the hollows of
the vale.
Then Morven said to the people: “The star kings are avenged, and their
wrath appeased. Tarry only here until the water have melted into the
crevices of the soil.”
And on the fourth day they returned to the city, and no man dared to
name another, save Morven, as the king.
But Morven retired into his cave and mused deeply; and then assembling
the people, he gave them new laws; and he made them build a mighty
temple in honor of the stars, and made them heap within it all that the
tribe held most precious.
And he took unto him fifty children from the most famous of the tribe;
and he took also ten from among the men who had served him best, and
he ordained that they should serve the stars in the great temple: and
Morven was their chief.
And he put away the crown they pressed upon him, and he chose from among
the elders a new king.
And he ordained that henceforth the servants only of the stars in the
great temple should elect the king and the rulers, and hold council,
and proclaim war: but he suffered the king to feast, and to hunt, and to
make merry in the banquet halls.
And Morven built altars in the temple, and was the first who, in the
North, _sacrificed the beast and the bird, and afterwards human flesh_,
upon the altars.
And he drew auguries from the entrails of the victim, and made schools
for the science of the prophet; and Morven’s piety was the wonder of the
tribe, in that he refused to be a king.
And Morven, the high-priest, was _ten thousand times mightier than the
king_.
He taught the people to till the ground, and to sow the herb; and by
his wisdom, and the valor that his prophecies instilled into men, he
conquered all the neighboring tribes.
And the sons of Oestrich spread themselves over a mighty empire, and
with them spread the name and the laws of Morven.
And in every province which he conquered, he ordered them to build a
temple to the stars.
But a heavy sorrow fell upon the years of Morven.
The sister of Siror bowed down her head and survived not long the
slaughter of her race.
And she left Morven childless.
And he mourned bitterly and as one distraught, for her only in the world
had his heart the power to love.
And he sat down and covered his face, saying:
“Lo: I have conquered and travailed; and never before in the world did
man conquer what I have conquered.
“Verily, the empire of the iron thews and the giant limbs is no more;
I have found a new power, that henceforth shall sway the lands;--_the
empire of plotting brain and a commanding mind_.
“But, behold, my fate is barren, and I feel already that it will grow
neither fruit nor tree as a shelter to mine old age.
“Desolate and lonely shall I pass away unto my grave.
“O Orna! my beautiful! my loved! none were like unto thee, and to thy
love do I owe my glory and my life.
“Would for thy sake, O sweet bird! that nestled in the dark cavern of my
heart--would for thy sake that thy brethren had been spared, for verily
with my life would I have purchased thine.
“Alas! only when I lost thee did I find that thy love was dearer to me
than the fear of others.”
And Morven mourned night and day, and none might comfort him.
But from that time forth he gave himself solely to the cares of his
calling; and his nature and his affections, and whatever there was left
soft in him, grew hard like stone; and he was a man without love, _and
he forbade love and marriage to the priest_.
Now, in his latter years, there arose OTHER prophets; for the world had
grown wiser even by Morven’s wisdom, and some did say unto themselves:
“Behold Morven, the herdsman’s son, is a king of kings: this did the
stars for their servant; shall we not, therefore, be also servants to
the star?”
And they wore black garments like Morven, and went about prophesying of
what the stars foretold them.
And Morven was exceeding wroth; for he, more than other men, knew
that the prophets lied; wherefore he went forth against them with the
ministers of the temple, and he took them and burned them by a slow
fire: for thus said Morven to the people:
“_A true prophet hath honor, but I only am a true prophet!_”
“To all false prophets there shall be surely death.”
And the people applauded the piety of the son of Osslah.
And Morven educated the wisest of the children in the mysteries of the
temple, so that they grew up to succeed him worthily.
And he died full of years and honor; and they carved his effigy on a
mighty stone before the temple, and the effigy endured for a thousand
ages, and whoso looked on it trembled; for the face was calm with the
calmness of unspeakable awe!
And Morven was the first mortal of the North that made _Religion the
stepping stone to Power_.
Of a surety Morven was a great man!
CONCLUSION
It was the last night of the old year, and the stars sat, each upon his
ruby throne, and watched with sleepless eyes upon the world. The
night was dark and troubled, the dread winds were abroad, and fast and
frequent hurried the clouds beneath the thrones of the kings of night.
But ever and anon fiery meteors flashed along the depths of heaven, and
were again swallowed up in the graves of darkness.
And far below his brethren, and with a lurid haze around his orb, sat
the discontented star that had watched over the hunters of the North.
And on the lowest abyss of space there was spread a thick and mighty
gloom, from which, as from a caldron, rose columns of wreathing smoke;
and still, when the great winds rested for an instant on their paths,
voices of woe and laughter, mingled with shrieks, were heard booming
from the abyss to the upper air.
And now, in the middest night, a vast figure rose slowly from the abyss,
and its wings threw blackness over the world. High upward to the throne
of the discontented star sailed the fearful shape, and the star trembled
on his throne when the form stood before him face to face. And the shape
said: “Hail, brother!--all hail!”
“I know thee not,” answered the star: “thou art not the archangel that
visitests the kings of night.”
And the shape laughed loud. “I am the fallen star of the morning.--I am
Lucifer, thy brother. Hast thou not, O sullen king, served me and mine?
and hast thou not wrested the earth from thy Lord who sittest above
and given it to me by _darkening the souls of men with the religion
of fear?_ Wherefore come, brother, come;--thou hast a throne prepared
beside my own in the fiery gloom. Come.--The heavens are no more for
thee.” Then the star rose from his throne, and descended to the side of
Lucifer. For ever hath the spirit of discontent had sympathy with the
soul of pride.
And slowly they sank down to the gulf of gloom. It was the first night
of the new year, and the stars sat each on his ruby throne, and watched
with sleepless eyes upon the world. But sorrow dimmed the bright faces
of the kings of night, for they mourned in silence and in fear for a
fallen brother.
And the gates of the heaven of heavens flew open with a golden sound,
and the swift archangel fled down on his silent wings; and the archangel
gave to each of the stars, as before, the message of his Lord; and to
each star was his appointed charge.
And when the heraldry seemed done, there came a laugh from the abyss of
gloom, and half way from the gulf rose the lurid shape of Lucifer, the
fiend.
“Thou countest thy flock ill, O radiant shepherd. Behold! one star is
missing from the three thousand and ten.”
“Back to thy gulf, false Lucifer!--the throne of thy brother hath been
filled.”
And lo! as the archangel spake, the stars beheld a young and all
lustrous stranger on the throne of the erring star; and his face was so
soft to look upon, that the dimmest of human eyes might have gazed upon
its splendor unabashed; but the dark fiend alone was dazzled by its
lustre, and, with a yell that shook the flaming pillars of the universe,
he plunged backwards into the gloom.
Then, far and sweet from the arch unseen, came forth the voice of God:
“Behold! _on the throne of the discontented star sits the star of hope;
and he that breathed into mankind the Religion of Fear hath a successor
in him who shall teach earth the Religion of Love._”
And evermore the Star of Fear dwells with Lucifer, and the Star of Love
keeps vigil in heaven.
ON THE ORIGIN OF EVIL
By Lord Brougham
A DISSERTATION ON THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
The question which has more than, any other harassed metaphysical
reasoners, but especially theologians, and upon which it is probable
that no very satisfactory conclusion will ever be reached by the human
faculties, is the Origin and Sufferance of Evil.
Its existence being always assumed, philosophers have formed various
theories for explaining it, but they have always drawn very different
inferences from it.
The ancient Epicureans argued against the existence of the Deity,
because they held that the existence of Evil either proved him to be
limited in power or of a malignant nature; either of which imperfections
is inconsistent with the first notions of a divine being.
In this kind of reasoning they have been followed both by the atheists
and sceptics of later times.
Bayle regarded the subject of evil as one of the great arsenals from
whence his weapons were to be chiefly drawn. None of the articles in his
famous Dictionary are more labored than those in which he treats of
this subject. _Monichian_, and still more _Paulician_, almost assume the
appearance of formal treatises upon the question; and both _Marchionite_
and _Zoroaster_ treat of the same subject. All these articles are of
considerable value; they contain the greater part of the learning upon
the question; and they are distinguished by the acuteness of reasoning
which was the other characteristic of their celebrated author.