"The wise men and statesmen of the usurper's party now, however, for
the most part, take an entirely different method. They discourage
all these counterfeits, which they say are paying a most undeserved
compliment to us. They say our jewels are mere sham and tinsel; that
the light they shed exists only in the fancy of the spectators; that
the living water is nothing but a mirage; and that the visions we see
through the telescope are simply a lie. They affect to despise us
too much to punish us; and if they persecute us at all, it is simply
by contemptuously shutting us up in asylums as enthusiasts—harmless,
unless we mislead others.
"It is only a few of the most inveterate, such as myself; who may
succeed in bringing over too many to the side of our King, that they
occasionally make examples of, to sober the rest. But it is all
entirely useless," he added, very joyfully; "the King's followers
increase, his cause is gaining ground, and," he added, with a subdued
voice, "the King himself is coming."
"Is it really true," I asked, after a time, "that nothing, or no man,
can rob you of this treasure?"
"Our treasure no man taketh from us," he replied. "This he gave us,
this he left with us: not as the world giveth, gave he unto us."
"But can nothing you yourselves do, or omit to do, spoil or dim your
jewel?" I resumed.
His brow saddened.
"Alas! There and there only have our enemies any real strength
against us," he replied. "Sorrows only add to its lustre; in the loss
of everything else it only shines the brighter; hunger and thirst
but prove the unfailing nature of the fountain in the crystal vase;
destitution and darkness, dungeons and tortures, only make the bright
visions of our telescope more glorious; but we, we ourselves may indeed
dim its lustre, or, if we will, yield it up altogether."
"All this is natural and comprehensible," I said. "The dungeon must
make the jewel brighter; the drought, the unfailing spring more
precious; the narrowing of all prospects here, enhance the visions of
that magic glass; the cruelties of the usurper, endear the sight of the
Prince you serve."
"This the wisest of our enemies have found out," the old man replied.
"They find that nothing they can do harms us, but only what they can
make us do ourselves; and to this they direct their efforts."
"In what way?" I inquired.
"In many ways," he answered, sadly. "The jewel, which nothing external
can dim, is sensitive to the least change in us. Any infringement
of our King's laws, or, especially, any unfaithfulness to our King,
dims its lustre at once; any drinking of these forbidden cups of
intoxication dries up the crystal fountain; any yielding to the
usurper's service blots out from our magic glass its glorious visions,
and the sight of our King in his beauty."
"Are there any other dangers?" I inquired.
"Countless dangers," he replied. "Especially three devices have been
found too successful against us. Our jewel only keeps bright with use,
and in three ways our enemies endeavour to deter us from using it. The
timid they threaten, and induce to hide it from fear: and the cowardly
concealing of our treasure inflicts on us two evils: it prevents our
winning by it fresh followers to our Prince; and in concealment the
jewel itself invariably grows dim. The young and careless they engage
in the ambitious pursuits or the gay amusements of the court, until
they forget to use the precious gem, and in ceasing to use it, they
necessarily cease to shine with its light, and grow like any of the
usurper's train.
"And again, there are some poor, and distrusting, and fearful ones,
whom our enemies persuade that it is a daring presumption for such as
they to pretend they have had especial communication with the King, and
even at times torment them into thinking the King's own jewel tinsel.
So that, in looking and looking to see if it is a true jewel, they
forget to clasp it on their hearts, or drink the living water, or look
through the magic glass."
"That is a strange delusion," I remarked.
"Yes," he said; "but it is easily cured, if once we can persuade them
to look through the jewel instead of looking at it; for then they see
the King with the jewel on his breast, and the smile in his eyes, and
their doubts melt away in floods of happy tears.
"This I know," he added, "for I was once one of these. I had neglected
to use my jewel; and then an enemy, in the guise of a friend, persuaded
me to question its genuineness; but I ventured to look through it once
again, and since then, I do not look at my jewel, but gaze through it
to the King's heart; and from that day, my jewel has not grown dim."
"But you spoke of some who lost it altogether," I said.
"They are those," he said, solemnly, "who have deliberately yielded it
up to enter the service of the usurper, or those who, in base timidity,
have cast it away in denying our King."
"And for such can it ever be recovered?" I said.
"For one such, as disloyal as any, it was," he answered. "He went out
and wept bitterly; the King forgave him, and in time the treasure was
restored to him, and he became one of our most glorious veterans."
"How is the jewel to be recovered if lost?" I asked.
"By going to the place where first it was found," he replied. "There,
on the lonely beach, before daybreak, it must be sought, morning after
morning, until the sun's first rays reveal it once more glittering
among the shingle as at first. But the waiting is often longer than it
was at first."
"Will you wear your jewel," I asked, "when the King comes, or when you
go to join him beyond the sea?"
"There," he replied, with an expression of rapturous joy, "we shall
see the jewel on the King's heart. There we shall have no need of the
hidden fountain, for the river of living waters flows there, bright as
crystal; and no need of the magic glass, for the King is near; but the
jewel will shine in that happy place on brow and breast for ever and
ever."
And as I left the sea-shore and the old man, these words floated
through my heart, as if they were echoes of his history, or his story
an echo of them:
"'Be not, as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance.'"
"'Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world
giveth, give I unto you.'"
"'Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice.'"
"'Your joy no man taketh from you.'"
The Cathedral Chimes: