THE CRIMSON RIVER.
At these unexpected words Theos sprang wildly to his feet. An awful
darkness seemed to close in upon him,--and a chaotic confusion of
memories began to whirl and drift through his mind like flotsam and
jetsam tossed upon a storm-swept sea. The aged and shadowy-looking
Zuriel stood motionless, watching him with something of timid pity and
mild patience.
"FIVE THOUSAND YEARS!" he muttered hoarsely, pressing his hands into
his aching brows, while his eyes again fixed themselves yearningly on
the Cross.. "Five thousand years before.... before WHAT?"
He caught the old man's arm, and in spite of himself, a laugh, wild,
discordant, and out of all keeping with his inward emotions, broke from
his parched lips,--"Thou doting fool!" he cried almost furiously,--"Why
dost thou mock me then with this false image of a hope unrealized? ...
Who gave thee leave to add more fuel to my flame of torment? ... What
means this symbol to thine eyes? Speak.. speak! What admonition does it
hold for thee? ... what promise? ... what menace? ... what warning? ...
what love? ... Speak.. speak! O, shall I force confession from thy
throat, or must I die unsatisfied and slain by speechless longing! What
didst thou say? ... FIVE THOUSAND YEARS? ... Nay, by the gods, thou
liest!"--and he pointed excitedly to the sacred Emblem,--"I tell thee
that Holy Sign is as familiar to my suffering soul as the chiming of
bells at sunset! ... as well known to my sight as the unfolding of
flowers in the fields of spring! ... What shall be done or said of it,
in five thousand years, that has not already been said and done?"
Zuriel regarded him more compassionately than ever, with a penetrating,
mournful expression in his serious dark eyes.
"Alas, alas, my son! thou art most grievously distraught!" he said in
troubled tones. "Thy words but prove the dark disorder of thy
wits,--may Heaven soon heal thee of thy mental wound! Restrain thy wild
and wandering fancies? ... for surely thou canst not be familiar, as
thou sayest with this silver Symbol, seeing that it is but the Talisman
[Footnote: The Cross was held in singular veneration in the Temple of
Serapis, and by many tribes in the East, ages before the coming of
Christ] or Badge of the Mystic Brethren of Al-Kyris, and has no
signification whatsoever save for the Elect. It was designed some
twenty years ago by the inspired Chief of our Order, Khosrul, and such
as are still his faithful disciples wear it as a record and constant
reminder of his famous Prophecy."
Theos heard, and a dull apathy stole over him,--his recent excitement
died out under a chilling weight of vague yet bitter disappointment.
"And this Prophecy?" he asked listlessly.. "What is its nature and whom
doth it concern?"
"Nay, in very truth it is a strange and marvellous thing!" replied
Zuriel, his calm voice thrilling with a mellow touch of fervor..
"Khosrul, 'tis said, has heard the angels whispering in Heaven, and his
attentive ears have caught the echo of their distant speech.
"Thus spiritually instructed, he doth powerfully predict Salvation for
the human race,--and doth announce, that in five thousand years or
more, a God shall be moved by wondrous mercy to descend from Heaven,
and take the form of Man, wherein, unknown, despised, rejected, he will
live our life from commencement to finish, teaching, praying, and
sanctifying by His Divine Presence the whole sin-burdened Earth. This
done, He will consent to suffer a most cruel death, . . and the manner
of His death will be that He shall hang, nailed hands and feet to a
Cross, as though He were a common criminal, . . His holy brows shall be
bound about with thorns,--and after hours of agony He, innocent of
every sin, shall perish miserably--friendless, unpitied, and alone. But
afterward, ... and mark you! this is the chiefest glory of all! ... He
will rise again triumphant from the grave to prove his God-head, and to
convince Mankind beyond all doubt an question, that there is indeed an
immortal Hereafter,--an actual, free Eternity of Life, compared with
which this our transient existence is a mere brief breathing-space of
pause and probation, . . and then for evermore His sacred Name shall
dominate and civilize the world..."
"What Name?".. interrupted Theos, with eager abruptness ... "Canst thou
pronounce it?"
Zuriel shook his head.
"Not I, my son"--he answered gravely.. "Not even Khosrul can penetrate
thus far! The Name of Him who is to come, is hidden deep among God's
unfathomed silences! It should suffice thee that thou knowest now the
sum and substance of the Prophecy. Would I might live to see the days
when all shall be fulfilled! ... but alas, my remaining years are few
upon the earth, and Heaven's time is not ours!"
He sighed,--and resumed his slow pacing onwards,--Theos walked beside
him as a man may walk in sleep, uncertainly and with unseeing eyes, his
heart beating loudly, and a sick sense of suffocation in his throat.
What did it all mean? ... Had his life gone back in some strange way?
... or had he merely DREAMED of a former existence different to this
one? He remembered now what Sah-luma had told him respecting Khosrul's
"new" theory of a future religion,--a theory that to him had seemed so
old, so old!--so utterly exhausted and worn threadbare! In what a
cruel problem was he hopelessly involved!--what a useless, perplexed,
confused being he had become! ... he who would once to have staked his
life on the unflinching strength and capabilities of human reason!
After a pause, . .
"Forgive me!" he said in a low tone, and speaking with some effort..
"forgive me and have patience with my laggard comprehension, . . I am
perplexed at heart and slow of thought; wilt thou assure me faithfully,
that this God-Man thou speakest of is not yet born on earth?"
The faintest shadow of a wondering smile flickered over the old man's
wrinkled countenance, like the reflection of a passing taper-flame on a
faded picture.
"My son, my son!" he murmured with compassionate tolerance--"Have I not
told thee that five thousand years and more must pass away ere the
prediction be accomplished? ... I marvel that so plain a truth should
thus disquiet thee! Now, by my soul, thou lookest pallid as the dead!
... Come, let us hasten on more rapidly,--thy fainting spirits will
revive in fresher air."
He hurried his pace as he spoke, and glided along with such a curious,
stealthy noiselessness that by and by Theos began dubiously to wonder
whether after all he were a real personage or a phantom? He noticed
that his own figure seemed to possess much more substantiality and
distinctness of outline than that of this mysterious Zuriel, whose very
garments resembled floating cloud rather than actual, woven fabric. Was
his companion then a fitting Spectre? ...
He smiled at the absurdity of the idea, and to change the drift of his
own foolish fancies he asked suddenly,--"Concerning this wondrous city
of Al-Kyris...is it of very ancient days, and long lineage?"
"The annals of its recorded history reach over a period of twelve
thousand years"--replied Zuriel, . . "But 'tis the present fashion to
count from the Deification of Nagaya or the Snake,--and, according to
this, we are now in the nine hundred and eighty-ninth year of so-called
Grace and Knowledge,--rather say Dishonor and Crime! ... for a crueler,
more bloodthirsty creed than the worship of Nagaya never debased a
people! Who shall number up the innocent victims that have been
sacrificed in the great Temple of the Sacred Python!--and even on this
very day which has just dawned, another holocaust is to be offered on
the Veiled Shrine,--or so it hath been publicly proclaimed throughout
the city,--and the crowd will flock to see a virgin's blood spilt on
the accursed altars where Lysia, in all the potency of triumphant
wickedness, presides. But if the auguries of the stars prevail, 'twill
be for the last time!" Here he paused and looked fixedly at Theos.
"Thou dost return straightway to Sah-luma ... is it not so?"
Theos bent his head in assent.
"Art thou true friend, or mere flatterer to that spoilt child of fair
fame and fortune?"
"Friend!"--cried Theos with eager enthusiasm, ... "I would give my life
to save his!"
"Aye, verily? ... is it so?" ... and Zuriel's melancholy eyes dwelt
upon him with a strange and sombre wistfulness, ... "Then, as thou art
a man, persuade him out of evil into good! ... rouse him to noble shame
and nobler penitence for all those faults which mar his poet-genus and
deprive it of immortal worth! ... urge him to depart from Al-Kyris
while there is yet time ere the bolt of destruction falls! ... and, ...
mark you well this final warning! ... bid him to-day avoid the Temple,
and beware the King!"--
As he said this he stopped and extinguished the lamp he carried. There
was no longer any need of it, for a broad patch of gray light fell
through an aperture in the wall, showing a few rough, broken steps that
led upwards,--and pointing to these he bade the bewildered Theos a
kindly farewell.
"Thou wilt find Sah-luma's palace easily,"--he said--"Not a child in
the streets but knows the way thither. Guard thy friend and be thyself
also on guard against coming disaster,--and if thou art not yet
resolved to die, escape from the city ere to-night's sun-setting.
Soothe thy distempered fancies with thoughts of God, and cease not to
pray for thy soul's salvation! Peace be with thee!"--
He raised his hands with an expressive gesture of benediction, and
turning round abruptly disappeared. Where had he gone? ... how had he
vanished? ... It was impossible to tell! ... he seemed to have melted
away like a mist into utter nothingness! Profoundly perplexed, Theos
ascended the steps before him, his mind anxiously revolving all the
strange adventures of the night, while a dim sense of some unspeakable,
coming calamity brooded darkly upon him.
The solemn admonitions he had just heard affected him deeply, for the
reason that they appeared to apply so specially to Sah-luma,--and the
idea that any evil fate was in store for the bright, beautiful
creature, whom he had, oddly enough, learned to love more than himself,
moved him to an almost womanish apprehension. In case of pressing
necessity, could he exercise any authority over the capricious
movements of the wilful Laureate, whose egotism was so absolute, whose
imperious ways were so charming, whose commands were never questioned?
He doubted it! ... for Sah-luma was accustomed to follow the lead of
his own immediate pleasure, in reckless scorn of consequences,--and it
was not likely he would listen to the persuasions or exhortations,
however friendly, of any one presuming to run counter to his wishes.
Again and again Theos asked himself--"If Sah-luma of his own accord,
and despite all warning, deliberately rushed into deadly peril, could
I, even loving him as I do, rescue him?"--And as he pondered on this, a
strange answer shaped itself unbidden in his brain--an answer that
seemed as though it were spoken aloud by some interior voice..
"No,--no!--ten thousand times no! You could not save him any more than
you could save yourself from the results of your own misdoing! If you
voluntarily choose evil, not all the forces in the world can lift you
into good,--if you voluntarily choose danger, not all the gods can
bring you into safety! FREE WILL is the divine condition attached to
human life, and each man by thought, word, and deed, determines his own
fate, and decides his own future!"
He sighed despondingly, ... a curious, vague contrition stirred within
him, ... he felt as though HE were in some mysterious way to blame for
all his poet-friend's short-comings!
In a few minutes he found himself on the broad marble embankment, close
to the very spot from whence he had first beheld the beautiful High
Priestess sailing slowly by in all her golden pomp and splendor, and as
he thought of her now, a shudder, half of aversion, half of desire,
quivered through him, flushing his brows with the warm uprising blood
that yet burned rebelliously at the remembrance of her witching,
perfect loveliness!
Here too he had met Sah-luma, . . ah Heaven!--how many things had
happened since then! ... how much he had seen and heard! ... Enough, at
any rate, to convince him, that the men and women of Al-Kyris were more
or less the same as those of other great cities he seemed to have known
in far-off, half-forgotten days,--that they plotted against each other,
deceived each other, accused each other falsely, murdered each other,
and were fools, traitors, and egotists generally, after the customary
fashion of human pigmies,--that they set up a Sham to serve as
Religion, Gold being their only god,--that the rich wantoned in
splendid luxury, and wilfully neglected the poor,--that the King was a
showy profligate, ruled by a treacherous courtesan, just like many
other famous Kings and Princes, who, because of their stalwart, martial
bearing, and a certain surface good-nature, manage to conceal their
vices from the too lenient eyes of the subjects they mislead,--and that
finally all things were evidently tending toward some great convulsion
and upheaval possibly arising from discontent and dissension among the
citizens themselves,--or, likelier still, from the sudden invasion of a
foreign foe,--for any more terrific termination of events did not just
then suggest itself to his imagination.
Absorbed in thought, he walked some paces along the embankment, before
he perceived that a number of people were already assembled
there,--men, women, and children, who, crowding eagerly together to the
very edge of the parapet, appeared to be anxiously watching the waters
below.
What unusual sight attracted them? ... and why were they all so silent
as though struck dumb by some unutterable dismay? One or two, raising
their heads, turned their pale, alarmed faces toward Theos as he
approached, their eyes seeming to mutely inquire his opinion,
concerning the alarming phenomenon which held them thus spellbound and
fear-stricken.
He made his way quickly to where they stood, and looking where they
looked, uttered a sharp, involuntary exclamation, ... the river, the
clear, rippling river was RED AS BLOOD. Beneath the slowly breaking
light of dawn, that streaked the heavens with delicate lines of
silver-gray and daffodil, the whole visible length and breadth of the
heaving waters shone with a darkly flickering crimson hue, deeper than
the lustre of the deepest ruby, flowing sluggishly the while as though
clogged with some thick and weedy slime.
As the sky brightened gradually into a pale, ethereal blue, so the tide
became ruddier and more pronounced in color,--and presently, as though
seized by a resistless panic, the group of staring, terrified
bystanders broke up suddenly, and rushed away in various directions,
covering their faces as they fled and uttering loud cries of
lamentation and despair.
Theos alone remained behind, . . resting his folded arms on the
sculptured balustrade, he gazed down, down into those crimson depths
till their strange tint dazzled and confused his sight,--looking up for
relief to the eastern horizon where the sun was just bursting out in
full splendor from a pavilion of violet cloud, the red reflection was
still before his eyes, so much so, that the very air seemed flushed
with spreading fire.
And then like the sound of a tocsin ringing in his ears, the words of
the Prophet Khosrul, as pronounced in the presence of the King,
recurred to his memory with new and suggestive force. "BLOOD--BLOOD!
'TIS A SCARLET SEA WHEREIN LIKE A BROKEN AND EMPTY SHIP AL-KYRIS
FOUNDERS,--FOUNDERS NEVER TO RISE AGAIN!"
Still painfully oppressed by an increasing sense of some
swift-approaching disaster, his thoughts once more reverted anxiously
to Sah-luma. He must be warned,--yes!--even if he disdained all
warning! Yet, . . warn him against what? "BID HIM AVOID THE TEMPLE AND
BEWARE THE KING!"
So had said Zuriel the Mystic,--but to the laurelled favorite of the
monarch, and idol of the people, such an admonition would seem more
than absurd! It was useless to talk to him about the prophecies of
Khosrul,--he had heard them all, and laughed them to scorn.
"How can I"--then mused Theos disconsolately,--"How can I make him
believe that some undeclared evil threatens him, when he is at the very
pinnacle of fame and fortune with all Al-Kyris at his feet? ... He
would never listen to me, ... nor would any persuasions of mine induce
him to leave the city where his name is so glorious and his renown so
firmly established. Of Lysia's treachery I may perhaps convince him,
... yet even in this attempt I may fail, and incur his hatred for my
pains! If I had only myself to consider! ... "--And here his
reflections suddenly took a strange, unbidden turn. If he had only
himself to consider! ... well, what then! Was it not just within the
bounds of probability that, under the same circumstances, he might be
precisely as self-willed and as haughtily opinionated as the friend
whose arrogance he deplored, yet could not alter?
So pointed a suggestion was not exactly suited to his immediate humor,
and he felt curiously vexed with himself for indulging in such a
foolish association of ideas! The positions were entirely different, he
argued, angrily addressing the troublesome inward monitor that every
now and then tormented him,--there was no resemblance whatever between
himself, the unknown, unfamed wanderer in a strange land, and the
brilliant Sah-luma, chosen Poet Laureate of the realm!
No resemblance, . . none at all! ... he reiterated over and over again
in his own mind, . . except ... except, ... well! ... except in perhaps
a few trifling touches of character and temper that were scarcely worth
the noting! At this juncture, his uncomfortable reverie was interrupted
by the sound of a harsh, metallic voice close behind him.
"What fools there are in the world!" said the voice in emphatic accents
of supreme contempt--"What braying asses!--What earth-snouting swine!
Saw you not yon crowd of whimpering idiots flying helter-skelter like
chaff before the wind, weeping, wailing, and bemoaning their miserable
little sins, scattering dust on their addled pates, and howling on
their gods for mercy,--all forsooth! because for once in their
unobserving lives they behold the river red instead of green! Ay me!
'tis a thing to laugh at, this crass, and brutish ignorance of the
multitude,--no teaching will ever cleanse their minds from the cobwebs
of vulgar superstition,--and I, in common with every wise and worthy
sage of sound repute and knowledge, must needs waste all my scientific
labors on a perpetually ungrateful public!"
Turning hastily round Theos confronted the speaker,--a tall, spare man
with a pale, clean-shaven, intellectual face, small, shrewd,
speculative eyes, and very straight, neatly parted locks,--a man on
whose every lineament was expressed a profound belief in himself, and
an equally profound scorn for the opinions of any one who might
possibly presume to disagree with him. He smiled condescendingly as he
met Theos's half-surprised, half-inquiring look, and saluted him with a
gravely pompous air, which however, was not without a saving touch of
that indescribable, easy grace which seemed to distinguish the manners
of all the inhabitants of Al-Kyris. Theos returned the salutation with
equal gravity, whereupon the new-comer waving his hand majestically,
continued:
"You sir, I see, are young, . . and probably you are enrolled among the
advanced students of one or other of our great collegiate
institutions,--therefore the peculiar, though not at all unnatural tint
of the river this morning, is of course no mystery to you, if, as I
presume, you follow the Scientific Classes of Instruction in the
Physiology of Nature, of Manifestation of Simple and Complex Motive
Force, and the Perpetual Evolution of Atoms?"
Theos smiled,--the grandiloquent manner of this self-important
individual amused him.
"Most worthy sir," he replied, "you form too favorable an opinion of my
scholarly attainments! I am a stranger in Al-Kyris,--and know naught of
its educational system, or the interior mechanism of its wondrous
civilization! I come from far-off lands, where, if I remember rightly,
much is taught and but little retained,--where petty pedagogues persist
in dragging new generations of men through old and worn-out ruts of
knowledge that future ages shall never have need of, . . and concerning
even the progress of science, I confess to a certain incredulity,
seeing that to my mind Science somewhat resembles a straight line drawn
clear across country but leading, alas! to an ocean wherein all
landmarks are lost and swallowed up in blankness. Over and over again
the human race has trodden the same pathway of research,--over and over
again has it stood bewildered and baffled on the shores of the same
vast sea,--the most marvellous discoveries are after all mere child's
play compared to the tremendous secrets that must remain forever
unrevealed; and the poor and trifling comprehension of things that we,
after a life-time of study, succeed in attaining, is only just
sufficient to add to our already burdened existence the undesirable
clogs of discontent and disappointed endeavor. We die,--in almost as
much ignorance as we were born, . . and when we come face to face with
the Last Dark Mystery, what shall our little wisdom profit us?"
With his arms folded in an attitude of enforced patience and complacent
superiority, the other listened.
"Curious, . . curious!" he murmured in a mild sotto-voce,--"A would-be
pessimist!--aye, aye,--'tis very greatly the fashion for young men in
these days to assume the manner of elderly and exhausted cynics who
have tried everything and approve of nothing! 'Tis a strange
craze!--but, my good sir, let us keep to the subject at present under
discussion. Like all unripe philosophers, you wander from the point. I
did not ask you for your opinion concerning the uselessness or the
efficiency of learning,--I merely sought to discover whether you, like
the silly throng that lately scattered right and left of you, had any
foolish forebodings respecting the transformed color of this river,--a
color which, however seeming peculiar, arises, as all good scholars
know, from causes that are perfectly simple and easily explainable."
Theos hesitated,--his eyes wandered involuntarily to the flowing tide,
which now with the fully risen sun seemed more than ever brilliant and
lurid in its sanguinary hue.
"Strange things have been said of late concerning Al-Kyris,--" he
answered at last, slowly and after a thoughtful pause,--"Things that,
though wild and vague, are not without certain dark presages and
ominous suggestions. This crimson flood may be, as you say, the natural
effect of purely natural causes,--yet, notwithstanding this, it seems
to me a singular phenomenon--nay, even a weird and almost fatal augury?"
His companion laughed--a gentle, careless laugh of amused disdain.
"Phenomenon! ... augury! ..." he exclaimed shrugging his shoulders
lightly ... "These words, my young friend, are terms that nowadays
belong exclusively to the vocabulary of the uneducated masses; we,--and
by WE, I mean scientists, and men of the highest culture,--have long
ago rejected them as unmeaning and therefore unnecessary. Phenomenon is
a particularly vile expression, serving merely to designate anything
wonderful and uncommon,--whereas to the scientific eye, there is
nothing left in the world that ought to excite so vulgar and barbarous
an emotion as wonder, . . nothing so apparently rare that cannot be
reduced at once from the ignorant exaggerations of enthusiasm to the
sensible level of the commonplace? The so-called 'marvels' of nature
have, thanks to the advancement of practical education, entirely ceased
to affect by either surprise or admiration the carefully matured,
mathematically adjusted, and technically balanced brain of the finished
student or professor of Organic Evolution,--and as for the idea of
'auguries' or portents, nothing could well be more entirely at variance
with our present system of progressive learning, whereby Human Reason
is trained and taught to pulverize into indistinguishable atoms all
supernatural propositions, and to gradually eradicate from the mind the
absurd notion of a Deity or deities, whom it is necessary to propitiate
in order to live well. Much time is of course required to elevate the
multitude above all desire for a Religion,--but the seed has been sown,
and the harvest will be reaped, and a glorious Era is fast approaching,
when the free-thinking, free-speaking people of all nations shall
govern themselves and rejoice in the grand and God-less Light of
Universal Liberty?"
Somewhat heated by the fervor of his declamatory utterance, he passed
his hand among his straight locks, whether to cool his forehead, or to
show off the numerous jewelled rings on his fingers, it was difficult
to say, and continued more calmly:
"No, young sir!--the color of this river,--a color which, I willingly
admit, resembles the tint of flowing human blood,--has naught to do
with foolish omens and forecasts of evil,--'tis simply caused by the
influx of some foreign alluvial matter, probably washed down by storm
from, the sides of the distant mountains whence these waters have their
rising,--see you not how the tide is thick and heavy with an
unfloatable cargo of red sand? Some sudden disturbance of the soil,--or
a volcanic movement underneath the ocean,--or even a distant
earthquake, . . any of these may be the reason."...
"May be?--why not say MUST be," observed Theos half ironically, "since
learning makes you sure!"
His companion pressed the tips of his fingers delicately together, as
though blandly deprecating this observation.
"Nay, nay!--none of us, however wise, can say 'MUST BE'"--he argued
suavely--"It is not,--strictly speaking,--possible in this world to
pronounce an incontestable certainty."
"Not even that two and two are four?" suggested Theos, smiling.
"Not even that!"...replied the other with perfect gravity--"Inasmuch as
in the kingdom of Hypharus, whose borders touch ours, the inhabitants,
also highly civilized, do count their quantities by a totally different
method; and to them two and two are NOT four, the numbers two and four
not being included in their system of figures. Thus,--a Professor from
the Colleges of Hypharus could obstinately deny what to us seems the
plainest fact known to common-sense,--yet, were I to argue against him
I should never persuade him out of his theory,--nor could he move me
one jot from mine. And viewed from our differing standpoints,
therefore, the first simple multiplication of numbers could never be
proved correct beyond all question!"
Theos glanced at him in wonder,--the man must be mad, he thought, since
surely any one in his senses could see that two objects placed with
other two must necessarily make four!
"I confess you surprise me greatly, sir!"--he said, and, in spite of
himself, a little quiver of laughter shook his voice.. "What I asked
was by way of jest,--and I never thought to hear so simple a subject
treated with so much profound and almost doubting seriousness!
See!"--and he picked up four small stones from the roadway--"Count
these one by one, . . how many have you? Surely even a professor from
Hypharus could find no more, and no less than four?"
Very deliberately, and with unruffled equanimity, the other took the
pebbles in his hand, turned them over and over, and finally placed them
in a row on the edge of the balustrade near which he stood.
"There SEEM to be four, . ." he then observed placidly--"But I would
not swear to it,--nor to anything else of which the actuality is only
supported by the testimony of my own eyes and sense of touch."
"Good heavens, man!" cried Theos, in amazement,--"But a moment since,
you were praising the excellence of Reason, and the progressive system
of learning that was to educate human beings into a contempt for the
Supernatural and Spiritual, and yet almost in the same breath you tell
me you cannot rely on the evidence of your own senses! Was there ever
anything more utterly incoherent and irrational!"
And he flung the pebbles into the redly flowing river with a gesture of
irritation and impatience. The scientist,--if scientist he could be
called,--gazed at him abstractedly, and stroked his well-shaven chin
with a somewhat dejected air. Presently heaving a deep sigh, he said:
"Alas, I have again betrayed myself! ... 'tis my fatal destiny! Always,
by some unlooked-for mischance, I am compelled to avow what most I
desire to conceal! Can you not understand, sir,"--and he laid his hand
persuasively on Theos's arm,--"that a Theory may be one thing and one's
own private opinion another? My Theory is my profession,--I live by it!
Suppose I resigned it,--well, then I should also have to resign my
present position in the Royal Institutional College,--my house, my
servants, and my income. I advance the interests of pure Human Reason,
because the Age has a tendency to place Reason as the first and highest
attribute of Man,--and it would not pay me to pronounce my personal
preference for the natural and vastly superior gift of Intellectual
Instinct. I advise my scholars to become atheists, because I perceive
they have a positive passion for Atheism, and it is not my business,
nor would it be to my advantage to interfere with the declared
predilections of my wealthiest patrons. Concerning my own ideas on
these matters, they are absolutely NIL, ... I have no fixed
principles,--because"--and his brows contracted in a puzzled line--"it
is entirely out of my ability to fix anything! The whole world of
manners and morals is in a state of perpetual ferment and consequent
change,--equally restless and mutable is the world of Nature, for at
any moment mountains may become plains, and plains mountains,--the dry
land may be converted into oceans, and oceans into dry land, and so on
forever. In this incessant shifting of the various particles that make
up the Universe, how can you expect a man to hold fast to so unstable a
thing as an idea! And, respecting the testimony offered by sight and
sense, can YOU rely upon such slippery evidence?"
Theos moved uneasily,--a slight shiver ran through his veins, and a
momentary dizziness seized him, as of one who gazing down from some
lofty mountain-peak sees naught below but the white, deceptive
blankness of a mist that veils the deeper deathful chasms from his
eyes. COULD he rely on sight and sense...DARED he take oath that these
frail guides of his intelligence could never be deceived? ...
Doubtfully he mused on this, while his companion continued:
"For example, I look an arm's length into space, . . my eyes assure me
that I behold nothing save empty air,--my touch corroborates the
assertion of my eyes,--and yet, . . Science proves to me that every
inch of that arm's length of supposed blank space is filled with
thousands of minute living organisms that no human vision shall ever be
able to note or examine! Wonder not, therefore, that I decline to
express absolute confidence in any fact, however seemingly obvious,
such as that two and two are four, and that I prefer to say the
blood-red color of this river MAY be caused by an earth-tremor or a
land-slip, rather than positively assert that it MUST be so; though I
confess that, as far as my knowledge guides me, I incline to the belief
that 'MUST be' is in this instance the correct term."
He sighed again, and rubbed his nose perplexedly. Theos glanced at him
curiously, uncertain whether to laugh at or pity him.
"Then the upshot of all your learning, sir, . ." he said, . . "is that
one can never be quite certain of anything?"
"Exactly so!"--replied the pensive sage with a grave shake of his
head,--"Judged by the very finest lines of metaphysical argument, you
cannot really be sure whether you behold in me a Person or a Phantasm!
You THINK you see me,--I THINK I see you,--but after all it is only an
IMPRESSION mutually shared,--an impression which like many another,
less distinct, may be entirely erroneous! Ah, my dear young
sir!--education is advancing at a very rapid rate, and the art of close
analysis is reaching such a pitch of perfection that I believe we shall
soon be able logically to prove, not only that we do not actually
exist, but moreover that we never have existed! ... And herein, as I
consider, will be the final triumph of philosophy!"
"A poor triumph!"--murmured Theos wearily. "What, in such a case, would
become of all the nobler sentiments and passions of man,--love, hope,
gratitude, duty, ambition?"
"They would be precisely the same as before"--rejoined the other
complacently--"Only we should have learned to accept them merely as the
means whereby to sustain the IMPRESSION that we live,--an impression
which would always be agreeable, however delusive!"
Theos shrugged his shoulders. "You possess a peculiarly constituted
mind, sir!"--he said--"And I congratulate you on the skill you display
in following out a somewhat puzzling investigation to almost its last
hand's-breadth of a conclusion,--but.. pardon me,--I should scarcely
think the discussion of such debatable theories conducive to happiness!"
"Happiness!".. and the scientist smiled scornfully,--"'Tis a fool's
term, and designates a state of being that can only pertain to
foolishness! Show me a perfectly happy man, and I will show you an
ignorant witling, light-headed, hardhearted, and of a most powerfully
good digestion! Many such there be now wantoning among us, and the head
and chief of them all is perhaps the most popular numskull in Al-Kyris,
. . the Poet,--bah! ... let us say the braying Jack-ass in office,--the
laurelled Sah-luma!"
Theos gave an indignant start,--the hot color flushed his brows, . .
then he restrained himself by an effort.
"Control the fashion of your speech, I pray you, sir!" he said, with
excessive haughtiness--"The noble Laureate is my friend and host,--I
suffer no man to use his name unworthily in my presence!"
The sage drew back, and spread out his hands in a pacifying manner.
'Oh, I crave your pardon, good stranger!"--he murmured, with a kind of
apologetic satire in his acrid voice,--"I crave it most abjectly! Yet
to somewhat excuse the hastiness of my words, I would explain that a
contempt for poets and poetry is now universal among persons of
profound enlightenment and practical knowledge..."
"I am aware of it!" interrupted Theos swiftly and with passion--"I am
aware that so-called 'wise' men, rooted in narrow prejudice, with a
smattering of even narrower logic, presume, out of their immeasurable
littleness, to decry and make mock of the truly great, who, thanks to
God's unpurchasable gift of inspiration, can do without the study of
books or the teaching of pedants,--who flare through the world
flame-winged and full of song, like angels passing heavenward,--and
whose voices, rich with music, not only sanctify the by-gone ages, but
penetrate with echoing, undying sweetness the ages still to come!
Contempt for poets!--Aye, 'tis common!--the petty, boastful pedagogues
of surface learning ever look askance on these kings in exile, these
emperors masked, these gods disguised! ... but humiliated, condemned,
or rejected, they are still the supreme rulers of the human heart,--and
a Love-Ode chanted in the Long-Ago by one such fire-lipped minstrel
outlasts the history of many kingdoms!"
He spoke with rapid, almost unconscious fervor, and as he ended raised
one hand with an enthusiastic gesture toward the now brilliant sapphire
sky and glowing sun. The scientist looked at him furtively and
smiled,--a bland, expostulatory smile.
"Oh, you are young!--you must be very young!" he said forbearingly..
"In a little time you will grow out of all this ill-judged fanaticism
for an Art, the pursuance of which is really only wasted labor! Think
of the absurdity of it!--what can be more foolish than the writing of
verse to express or to encourage emotion in the human subject, when the
great aim of education at the present day is to carefully eradicate
emotion by degrees, till we succeed in completely suppressing it! An
outburst of feeling is always vulgar,--the highest culture consists in
being impassively equable of temperament, and absolutely indifferent to
the attacks of either joy or sorrow. I should be inclined to ask you to
consider this matter more seriously, and from the strictly common-sense
point of view, did I not know that for you to undertake a course of
useful meditation while you remain is Sah-luma's companionship would be
impossible, . . quite impossible! Nevertheless our discourse has been
so far interesting, that I shall be happy to meet you again and give
you an opportunity for further converse should you desire it, . . ask
for the Head Professor of Scientific Positivism, any day in the
Strangers' Court of the Royal Institutional College, and I will at once
receive you! My name is Mira-Khabur,--Professor Mira Khabur...at your
service!"
And laying one hand on his breast he bowed profoundly.
"A Professor of Positivism who is himself never positive!"--observed
Theos with a slight smile.
"Ah pardon!" returned the other gravely--"On the contrary, I am always
positive! ... of the UNpositiveness of Positivism!"
And with this final vindication of his theories he made another stately
obeisance and went his way. Theos looked after his tall, retreating
figure half in sadness, half in scorn. This proudly incompetent,
learned-ignorant Mira-Khabur was no uncommon character--surely there
were many like him!
Somewhere in the world,--somewhere in far lands of which the memory was
now as indistinct as the outline of receding shores blurred by a
falling mist, Theos seemed painfully to call to mind certain
cold-blooded casuists he had known, who had attempted to explain away
the mysteries of life and death by rule and line calculations, and who
for no other reason than their mathematically argued denial of God's
existence had gained for themselves a temporary, spurious celebrity.
Yes! ... surely he had met such men, . . but WHERE? Realizing, with a
sort of shock, that he was quite as much in the dark as ever with
regard to any real cognizance of his former place of abode and the
manner of life he must have led before he entered this bewildering city
of Al-Kyris, he roused himself abruptly, and resolutely banishing the
heavy thoughts that threatened to oppress his soul, he began without
further delay to direct his steps towards Sah-luma's palace.
He glanced once more at the river before leaving the embankment,--it
was still blood red, and every now and then, between the sluggish
ripples, multitudes of dead fish could be seen drifting along in
shoals, and tangled in nets of slimy weed that at a little distance
looked like the floating tresses of drowned women.
It was an uncanny sight, and though it might certainly be as the wise
Mira Khabur had stated, the purely natural effect of purely natural
causes, still those natural causes were not as yet explained
satisfactorily. An earthquake or land-slip would perhaps account
sufficiently for everything,--but then an inquiring mind would desire
to know WHERE the earthquake or land-slip occurred,--and also WHY these
supposed far-off disturbances should thus curiously affect the river
surrounding Al-Kyris? Answers to such questions as these were not
forthcoming either from Professor Mira-Khabur or any other sagacious
pundit,--and Theos was therefore still most illogically and
unscientifically puzzled as well as superstitiously uneasy.
Turning up a side street, he quickened his pace, in order to overtake a
young vendor of wines whom he perceived sauntering along in front of
him, balancing a flat tray, loaded with thin crystal flasks, on his
head. How gloriously the sunshine quivered through those delicately
tinted glass bottles, lighting up the glittering liquid contained
within them!--why, they look more like soap-bubbles than anything else!
... and the boy who carried them moved with such a lazy, noiseless
grace that he might have been taken for a dream-sylph rather than a
human being!
"Hola, my lad!" called Theos, running after him.. "Tell me,--is this
the way to the palace of the King's Laureate?"
The youth looked up,--what a beautiful creature he was, with his
brilliant, dark eyes and dusky, warm complexion!
"Why ask for the King's Laureate?" he demanded with a pretty
scorn,--"The PEOPLE'S Sah-luma lives yonder!"--and he pointed to a mass
of towering palms from whose close and graceful frondage a white dome
rose glistening in the clear air,--"Our Poet's fame is not the
outgrowth of a mere king's favor, 'tis the glad and willing tribute of
the Nation's love and praise! A truce to monarchs!--they will soon be
at a discount in Al-Kyris!"
And with a flashing glance of defiance, and a saucy smile, he passed
on, easily sauntering as before.
"A budding republican!" though Theos amusedly, as he pursued his course
in the direction indicated. "That is how the 'liberty, equality,
fraternity' system always begins--first among street-boys who think
they ought to be gentlemen,--then among shopkeepers who persuade
themselves that they deserve to be peers,--then comes a time of
topsey-turveydom and fierce contention and by and by everything gets
shaken together again in the form of a Republic, wherein the
street-boys and shopkeepers are not a whit better off than they were
under a monarchy--they become neither peers nor gentlemen, but stay
exactly in their original places, with the disadvantage of finding
their trade decidedly damaged by the change that has occurred in the
national economy! Strange that the inhabitants of this world should
make such a fuss about resisting tyranny and oppression, when each
particular individual man, by custom and usage, tyrannizes over and
oppresses his fellow-man to an extent that would be simply impossible
to the fiercest kings!"
Thus meditating a few steps more brought him to the entrance of
Sah-luma's princely abode,--the gates stood wide open, and a pleasant
murmur of laughter and soft singing floated toward him across the
splendid court where the great fountains were tossing up to the bright
sky their straight, glistening columns of snowy spray. He
listened,--and his heart leaped with an intense relief and
joy,--Sah-luma, the beloved Sah-luma, was evidently at home and as yet
unharmed,--these mirthful sounds betokened that all was well. The vague
trouble and depression that had weighed upon his soul for hours now
vanished completely, and hastening along, he sprang lightly up the
marble stairs, and into the rainbow-colored, spacious hall, where the
first person he saw was Zabastes the Critic.
"Ah, good Zabastes!" he cried gayly,--"Where is thy master Sah-luma?
Has he returned in safety?"
"In safety?" croaked Zabastes with an accent of ironic surprise.. "To
be sure! ... Is he a baby in swaddling-clothes that he cannot be
trusted out alone to take care of himself? In safety?--aye! I warrant
you he is safe enough, and silly enough, and lazy enough to please any
one of his idiot flatterers, . . moreover my 'master!"--and he
emphasized this word with indescribable bitterness--"hath slept as
soundly as a swine, and hath duly bathed with the punctiliousness of a
conceited swan, and being suitably combed, perfumed, attired, and
throned as becomes his dainty puppetship, is now condescending to
partake of vulgar food in the seclusion of his own apartment. Go
thither and you shall find his verse-stringing Mightiness nobly
enshrined as a god among a worshipping crowd of witless maidens,--he
hath inquired for you many times, which is somewhat of a wonder, seeing
that as a rule he concerns his mind with naught save himself!
Furthermore, he is graciously pleased to be in a manner solicitous on
behalf of the maiden Niphrata, who hath suddenly disappeared from the
household, leaving no message to explain the cause of her evanishment.
Hath seen her? ... No?"--and the old man thumped his stick petulantly
on the floor as Theos shook his head in the negative--"'Tis the only
feminine creature I ever had patience to speak with,--a modest wench
and a gentle one, and were it not for her idolatrous adoration of
Sah-luma, she would be fairly sensible withal. No matter!--she has
gone; everything goes, even good women, and nothing lasts save folly,
of which there shall surely never be an end!"
Here apparently conscious that he had shown more feeling in speaking of
Niphrata than was usual with him, he looked up impatiently and waved
his staff toward Sah-luma's study; "In, in, boy! In, to, the Chief of
poets and prince of egotists! He waits your service,--he is all agape
and thirsty for more flattery and delicate cajolement, ... stuff him
with praise, good youth! ... and who knows but a portion of his mantle
may descend on YOU hereafter and make of YOU as conceited and pretty a
bantling bard for the glory of proud posterity!"
And chuckling audibly, he hobbled down a side passage, while Theos,
half angry, half amused, crossed the hall quickly, and arrived at the
door of the Laureate's private sanctum, where, gently drawing aside the
silken draperies, he looked in for a moment without being himself
perceived. What a picture he beheld! ... How perfection every shade of
color in every line of detail! Sah-luma, reclining in a quaintly carved
ebony chair, was toying with the fruit and wine set out before him on
an ivory and gold stand,--his dress, simpler than it had been on the
previous evening, was of fine white linen gathered loosely about his
classic figure,--he wore neither myrtle-wreath nor jewels,--the
expression of his face was serious, even noble, and his attitude was
one of languid grace and unstudied ease that became him infinitely
well. The maidens of his household waited near him,--some of them held
flowers,--one, kneeling at a small lyre, seemed just about to strike a
few chords, when Sah-luma silenced her by a light gesture:
"Peace, Zoralin!" he said softly.. "I cannot listen: thou hast not my
Niphrata's tenderness!"
Zoralin, a beautiful, dark girl, with hair as black as night, and eyes
that looked as though they held suppressed yet ever burning fire, let
her hands instantly drop from the instrument, and sighing, shrank back
a little in abashed silence. At that moment Theos advanced,--and the
Laureate sprang up delightedly:
"Ah, at last, my friend!" he cried, enthusiastically clasping him by
both hands,--"Where, in the name of all the gods, hast thou been
roaming? How did we part?--by my soul I forget!--but no matter!--thou
art here once more, and as I live, we will not separate again so
easily! My noble Theos!" and he threw one arm affectionately around his
neck--"I have missed thee more than I can tell these past few
hours,--thou dost seem so sympathetically conjoined with me, that
verily I think I am but half myself in thine absence! Come,--sit thee
down and break thy fast! ... I almost feared thou hadst met with some
mischance on thy way hither, and that I should have had to sally forth
and rescue thee again even as I did yesternoon! Say, hast thou occupied
thyself with so much friendly consideration on my behalf, as I have on
thine?"
He laughed gayly as he spoke,--and Theos, looking into his bright,
beautiful face, was for a moment too deeply moved by his own strange
inward emotions, to utter a word in reply. WHY did he love Sah-luma so
ardently, he wondered? WHY was it that every smile on that proud mouth,
every glance of those flashing eyes, possessed such singular,
overwhelming fascination for him? He could not tell,--but he readily
yielded to the magic influence of his friend's extraordinary
attractiveness, and sitting down beside him in the azure light and soft
fragrance of his regal apartment, he experienced a sudden sense of
rest, satisfaction, and completeness, such as may be felt by a man AT
ONE WITH HIMSELF, and with all the world!