[Illustration: THE GAY GNANI OF GINGALEE]
THE GAY GNANI OF GINGALEE
OR
DISCORDS OF DEVOLUTION
A TRAGICAL ENTANGLEMENT OF
MODERN MYSTICISM AND
MODERN SCIENCE
BY
FLORENCE HUNTLEY,
Author of
“Harmonics of Evolution” and “The Dream Child”
HARMONIC FICTION SERIES
VOL. II
CHICAGO
INDO-AMERICAN BOOK CO.
1908
Copyright 1908
By
FLORENCE HUNTLEY
Published 1908
DEDICATED
to
Those who are wise enough
to be foolish--at intervals
PRELUDE.
Mother Nature contributes the elements and qualities and “temperament”
of the individual; and no matter what the education, occupation,
position or experience, those native tendencies persist.
One who is born with the disposition for mental frivoling and a keen
sense of nonsense discovers that these tendencies persist with far
greater tenacity than any impulses of anger or fear or other
destructive elements. The writer of this little book has found them
subordinate only to the thirst for knowledge and the love of truth.
When the author of this “romance” finally renounced the small gods of
her personal ambitions, and surrendered the diverting occupation of
newspaper work for serious instruction in the School of Natural
Science, she merely restrained but never eliminated that Sense of
Nonsense. The native tendency toward intellectual badinage and
literary travesty persisted--and even to the present time it furnishes
relaxation from the absorbing duties in connection with The Great
Work.
Science, if it be Science, must take into account all of the facts of
Human Nature; and Philosophy, if it be Philosophy, must include and
assign to place every intellectual, native and normal tendency of the
Soul.
Science and Philosophy that have no room for the incongruities of life
and the frivolings of the intelligence are only partial mentors and
masters.
The workshop occupies so much of life, thought and energy, that no one
should refuse an occasional hour in the play room.
Confidence in the good sense of the readers of the Harmonic Series
forbids the thought that this little satire should be mistaken for a
reflection upon the Verities of the School of Natural Science, or
that it could be so misinterpreted as to discredit the Harmonic
Philosophy.
In so far as it is a travesty it deals, not with the facts of Science
and the Truths of Philosophy, but with the people and the things which
discredit both.
“The Dream Child” and the first sketch of “Discords of Devolution”
were written at the same time and place, but at different desks.
This was done in Washington City, at the time of my separation from
newspaper life.
The one stands for that earliest concept and ideal of the Great Law,
while the other represents the undertone of nonsense which
instruction, experience and self-denials have subdued but never
eliminated.
The manuscript of this little volume has been read, from time to time,
by friends who have urged its publication. This, however, was never
seriously intended until the “Interlude” (Chapter XII.), was
contributed by the TK, which interlude gives to the whole a definite
meaning and purpose but vaguely suggested by my own work.
Except for this masterly arraignment of The Gay Gnani of Gingalee the
author of this tale would have lacked the courage to publish it.
With this addition, however, the writer reconsidered, reread and
retouched the Ms., and consented to an Experiment.
With this explanation, excuse and apology for the writing of the
romance in the first place, and now for its publication, the author
commits it to criticism--with a certain conviction that it has a
mission of its own to perform.
FLORENCE HUNTLEY.
INGREDIENTS.
Chapter Page
PRELUDE 5
I PROPHET AND PROFIT 13
II MISS SHEETS IS SHE 21
III IN PRIMORDIAL BIOGEN 30
IV THE MANSARD ROOF 49
V IN THE HIGHEST DEGREE 65
VI THE GAY GNANI OF GINGALEE 75
VII THE BOOK AND THE BAGDAD 87
VIII THE MAN IN THE CELLAR 110
IX DRAWING A CORK 130
X A PRIVATE EXHIBIT 140
XI UP AGAINST IT 158
INTERLUDE 176
XII “THE WAGES OF SIN IS DEATH” 177
(By a Member of the Ancient Order of the
Brotherhood of India.)
XIII PHLOGISTON IS RESTORED 189
POSTLUDE 204
“For what shall it profit a man if he gain a whole Drug Store and jar
his Higher Self?”
--_Aphorism of the One Hi_----.
CHAPTER I.
“_Philosophers Deride, Fools Investigate_.”
PROPHET AND PROFIT.
“But my profession,” pleaded the slim and pallid youth who stood
wistfully eyeing the Soda Fountain. “You forget, my friend, that the
vows of a Guru forbid such diffusion of force and waste of magnetism
as occur in meeting those not of The Path.”
“Tommy-rot!” bawled young Mr. Vanderhook as he continued to polish the
already glittering faucet. “You’ve not seen her, and you hear me,
there is only one in the box and what’s more she can give cards and
spades to any old band of mystical misfits on the top side the Earth.”
“But my _profession_, William, the obligations of
One--Who--Aspires--To--Know are--are--simply immense, and in my
profession--”
“O, hang your profession--a couple of minutes anyway,” interrupted the
man at the fountain, “and come along. You’re not going to shake
Kankakee till you’ve seen my Very Best--the finest Chicago brand, the
highest flyer this side your celestial belt. What d’ye say, and
what’ll you have?” and Bill Vanderhook looked anxiously into the
other’s face while his hand sought the “sweet cream” spigot.
“And if I consent,” finally murmured the Occultist, now toying
mechanically with the long handled spoon, “If I consent,” he repeated
in a weird monotone--his eyes following the process of a Lowball--“and
look upon WOMAN--should I look upon her you would call your own,
remember, Bill, that _you_ assume _my_ responsibility, and that upon
_your_ head will rest the consequences of _my mad act_. Upon _you_
must descend the penalties of my violation of the First Degree.”
“I’ll go you,” recklessly responded the young druggist, as he shoved
the frothing fluid across the marble slab--“only let’s get a move.”
Alonzo Leffingwell’s right hand closed vaguely but firmly upon the
handle of the drinking-cup. With an air of utter indifference he
poured the questionable compound into his system. Then his left hand
sought his vest pocket--tentatively.
The Vanderhook drug store once more stood the treat.
Since infancy these two young men had been inseparable chums. The law
of opposites had been satisfied. It had attracted and welded the
affections of the stout, stocky, rosy and roystering Bill Vanderhook
and the pale, pensive and passive Alonzo Leffingwell.
Bill’s voice in babyhood was loud, resonant and cheerful, while
Lonnie’s was low, limpid and languid. In youth Bill’s eyes, big, bold
and black, had seemed continually searching for the hidden and
forbidden things of fruit closet and melon patch. Contrawise, Lonnie’s
orbs, mild, misty and luminous, seemed forever scanning the
unsatisfying deeps of space.
While nature seemed to have constructed Bill Vanderhook for a
short-stop or a half-back, it had reserved Alonzo Leffingwell for the
higher arts of mystical mysteries.
On attaining his majority Bill consulted with his father and accepted
a partnership in the paternal pharmacy. Alonzo consulted with himself,
determined upon mysticism and cut loose from parental guidance. Upon
this he resigned, as humorist of the _Daily Clarion_, and set out upon
the path of wisdom.
About the same time that Bill turned from bats to bottles and gave up
the kicking of balls for the rolling of pills, Alonzo laid down his
pen, took up his crystal and immured himself in his bedroom.
Naturally, the exactions of these widely differing occupations tended
more and more to separate the two young men.
To Bill Vanderhook it meant an active daily life and a perpetual
hustle in holding his father’s trade and reaching out for the
increase. It meant for him a frequent dip in the social swim, and
great popularity among those who attended “functions” and presided at
Chafing Dishes.
To Alonzo, his decision to become a “Wise Man” cut him out of pretty
nearly everything in the town. It meant renunciation of all social and
sentimental diversions of Kankakee. While upon the Druggist were fixed
the obligations of citizenship which rooted him in his ancestral home,
to the Mystic it meant only obscuration and retirement.
While Bill was now joyously “taking stock” and setting up new show
cases, Mr. Leffingwell, in obedience to his “Higher Self,” was packing
his grip for India.
For he who aspires to the state of Gnanum must seek a more adequate
asylum than that of Kankakee.
Alonzo was now well up in Yogum.
He approached Gnanum.
He apprehended the ALL.
Against all this Bill had violently protested. “Cut out this
foolishness, and get the bats out of your belfry. Come,” he implored,
“and clerk for me. This is the Leader in Kankakee, and when you learn
the business I’ll make you my Pardner. Now what’s the matter with
THAT?”
“Pouf! _Piff_! PELF!”--and Alonzo had shuddered as he thus expressed
in a musical crescendo his repulsion for trade. At the mere mention of
the Drug Store, or the Stock, this Prophet’s apprentice might have
been seen to curl his mustache with disdain.
He was strangely indifferent to the possible profits of the show-case
and the soda fountain.
Once he had asked, with something akin to vitality in his tone, “How
can you, Bill, consent to spend the whole of your earthly life in the
weighing, measuring and compounding of cold, inert forms of matter?”
“And how can you,” Bill had retorted in immeasurable disgust, “how can
you consent to spend your life in heathendom, roosting on top of a
post for forty years, till your fingers grow through your fists? And
more,” he continued loudly, “I’ll have you remember that these same
cold, inert forms of matter stand for big, warm and lively DOLLARS.
D’ye hear me, Mr. Dyanzy Chooanzy? While you’re munchin’ raw fodder
and meditatin’ in mouldy caves on the manifold mysteries of mankind,
I’ll be livin’ up to the Queen’s taste in Kankakee--swell
front--mansard roof--stunning wife--bank stock--and--who knows--but
the legislature or Congress or even”--and Bill paused modestly before
nominating himself to the Presidency.
Alonzo vouchsafed no reply.
He only gazed at his companion with the wide, meaningless smile of one
who Knows--he--Knows.
Then, shaking his head with vast, prophetic solemnity, he waved adieu
and passed out--in impenetrable silence.
This devotee had learned, as do all those who delight in the name
“Mystic,” that nothing is more effective than this vague, superior
silence, when confronted with the crude practicalities of the
“Unillumined.”
Then a truce prevailed between these erstwhile comrades until--the
ever to be expected--the Unexpected--happened.