THE late rays of the sinking sun shot rosy lines of light through
the high, painted glass casement of a quaint oriel-chamber, where,
on a cushion of crimson velvet, shone the Crown of a great King and
Emperor. It was set there in readiness for the morrow,--when, at a
stately pageant of national rejoicing, all the people would see it
raised high above them as a symbol of the Throne and the glory of the
land. Deft jewellers had been at work for days, burnishing its golden
setting and polishing its priceless jewels,--and now,--their work
completed,--they had brought it here for the night, and, to ensure
perfect safety, had left it in this special place because it was more
difficult of access than any other corner of the Royal palace. It was
a small recess apart;--and the only door leading to it was through the
“strong room,” where all the gold and silver plate was kept, and where
two armed men paced up and down both day and night, keeping close watch
and guard. Flashing sparkles of light twinkled every now and again
from the precious stones in the Crown, as the sunset hues caught their
finely-cut points and touched them into flame; and an atmosphere of
silent majesty surrounded the historical emblem of earth’s proudest
empire,--lifeless in itself, yet having the strange power of outlasting
the life of all its kings! The sun sank; its rays grew paler and
dimmer, till by-and-by they faded altogether. Long shadows came,
then the twilight, then the dark, and deep silence. Now and again a
trumpet-call from the soldiers’ quarters hard by, a bell slowly chiming
the hour, or the clash of muskets outside on the courtyard, betokening
a change of sentry, broke the solemn hush of night, but beyond this
no human sound disturbed the solitude and obscurity of the secret
nook which enshrined the Imperial Crown of a still more splendid and
imperial Realm.
All suddenly, about an hour before the moon rose, a thick, almost
palpable Darkness, darker than the night itself, gathered in the
room and began to circle like a threatening storm around the Crown.
Gradually this blackness took upon itself shape and stature, and,
rising full height, displayed the gigantic form of an Angel with sable
wings, and a countenance distorted with cruelty and avarice.
“Mine is the Crown!” he said. “Mine are the People! Mine is the Land,
and mine is the King!”
And as he spoke he stretched forth a hand to snatch the Royal diadem,
when, like a flame breaking through the walls and floor of the
oriel-chamber, a great light shone on every side, and another Angel,
stately and majestic, whose snowy wings were like the early rays of the
morning sun shining through white and azure, confronted that fierce
Spirit of the Darkness.
“Not so!” said a voice clear as a silver clarion. “Mine is the Crown!
Mine are the People! Mine is the Kingdom, and mine is the King!”
For one second of time they stood thus opposed one to the other--the
country’s Crown between them. Then came the flashing of a great Sword,
and the Angel of darkness struck with it fiercely at his god-like rival.
“War!” he cried. “Eternal war! For all the evils of the land there
shall be vengeance!”
And like a shaft of lightning through a cloud another fiery Sword
parried the savage blow.
“Peace!” said the silver-sounding voice of the Angel of Light. “Glory
and peace! For all the evils of the land there shall be justice!”
Then they closed and fought--those mighty, supernatural Warriors,--and
in their fearful contest the air around them both grew dense and
lurid, and the Crown, glittering with great gems on its crimson
velvet cushion, appeared to float in a pool of blood. Closer and more
terrible grew the fight,--and the evil angel, with such ferocity as
only hate and cruelty can give, twice thrust his dazzling foe to the
ground;--twice smote the heavenly-fair head with the great Sword that
bore the words “everlasting death” upon its blade. And while they yet
battled on, the moon rose, round and full, peering in upon them like
a wondering white face of sad and wistful inquiry. For a moment they
paused in their conflict,--and the jewels in the Crown suddenly ceased
to sparkle. Five aerial forms of exquisite beauty arose from its golden
circlet, lifting themselves above it like drifting wreaths of sea-mist
in the radiance of the moonlight, and their voices, small and soft, yet
clear as the notes of a sweet song, made music in the silence.
“I am the Spirit of the Pearl!” said one. “Through centuries of history
I have seen ‘Right’ forever conquer ‘Might,’ and so shall it be again!”
“I am the Spirit of the Ruby!” said another. “I mark both War and
Victory! From the bitter agony and labour of strong battle I have seen
the birth of Love and Peace! All things, whether gentle or fierce,
kind or cruel, have worked together for the good and the glory of the
land;--so has it ever been, and so shall it be again!”
“I am the Spirit of the Sapphire!” said the third; “I know the
movements of justice--I watch the performing of God’s Will. Through
light, through darkness, through gladness and sorrow, God holds His
perfect way with kings and kingdoms. Strife is sharp and strong, but
Truth is stronger;--so it has ever been, and so it shall be again!”
“I am the Spirit of the Emerald!” said a fourth. “Through all the
history of the realm I have counted the tears of the poor, the
sufferings of the weak, the griefs of the lonely, and when I set
my light on the great king’s brow I move him to deeds of pity and
loving-kindness! I watch the world progressing in good,--I know that
there is more tenderness than wrath in humanity,--more love than hate!
The Empire’s glory is in deeds of mercy! So it has been before--so it
shall be again!”
“I am the Spirit of the Diamond!” said the fifth,--“And wherever I
shine, there, too, shines the Star of Freedom! No slave can breathe
when my light sparkles in the air! Progress and Love and Wisdom spring
up at my command, and naught can lessen the Crown’s glory while I
remain its central gem! Liberty and honour! These are the watchwords of
our mighty Empire! So they have been for ages; so shall they ever be!”
Their voices ceased, and joining their delicate hands they melted into
a shining circle about the Crown,--a circle of pure and penetrating
light like the early sunbeams of a clear spring morning.
But the Angel of Darkness, resting on his sword, heard them and
smiled--a smile darker and more implacable than any frown.
“Oh, foolish, evanescent Shapes! Oh, vain gods of perishable gems!” he
cried; “How shall ye combat Me, who hold the mystic Opal!--the stone
of sorrow and of death? What is your strength against mine? Less than
the strength of reeds in a swift tide,--for I am the Spirit of Mammon,
and Time’s great pendulum swings the hour to me! Lo, here shines the
Crown’s mischief!--sparkling with a thousand fires of world’s wealth,
world’s lust, world’s treachery, world’s vanity!--hues of the rainbow,
as fleeting as they are fair! Emblem of ruin and disaster, take Thou
thy place in the Crown, and shed My light upon the great King’s brow!
Indestructible and terrible!--Jewel of devils and cursing, I set thee
there to work My will!”
He raised on high the Opal, glittering like a foam-bell on a
treacherous sea,--and then, bending his dark form above the Crown,
strove to set it within that golden band. But the magic circle of fire
around it grew brighter, and deeper, and wider, till it was like a
flame of glory,--springing higher and ever higher, it surrounded the
Angel of Light with countless arrowy beams.
“Fight on, God’s Angel of the Kingdom!” said a distant Voice that
echoed like thunder far away. “Fight on! Unto thee shall be given the
victory!”
Then the Angel raised his sword of Light and struck the Opal from his
enemy’s hand. It fell to the ground, shattered to atoms, and a rushing
sound as of many waters filled the air.
“New and Old are as one!” said the Voice; “Past and Future are as
Present! Fight on, God’s Angel of the Kingdom,--for Now is the
acceptable time!”
And once again those mighty Spirits fought,--and, as they crossed
their mystic Swords, there came a wailing noise as of the weeping of a
great multitude. Cries of passionate grief echoed up from some dismal
unseen abyss of suffering, and the anguish of a great People was borne
on the double rhythmic beat of a Funeral march and a Battle song.
Strange gleaming visions came and went in the darkness:--women’s pale
faces worn with toil and sorrow;--dead soldiers slain in their youth,
and lying unburied;--grim countenances of foul and lustful men, who
occupied their time in digging gold out of newly-made graves, wherein
the bodies had scarcely rested long enough to crumble into dust;--bold
eyes of false women shining wickedly through skulls that were crowned
with gems;--wide seas on which the great ships tossed, bearing the
seeds of new nations;--flashing networks of light, on which the quick
news travelled in dancing letters of flame! And over all--a Cloud,--and
under all--the Crown! The night hours wore away, and still the combat
raged,--and still the Angel of the Darkness fought fiercely with the
Angel of the Light. And the visions came and went like shadows in a
magic mirror--some beautiful, some terrible,--some that were like great
storms raging over the land,--some floating by in the halcyon fairness
of long summer days. Now and again while that mystic flashing of Swords
made luminance in the air, there came a sound of young voices singing
in the distance, and the words that broke through the music were like
these--
“Sheathed be the sword for ever!--let the drum
Be school-boys’ pastime,--let your battles cease;--
And be the cannon’s voice for ever dumb
Except to celebrate the joys of peace!
Are ye not brothers? God, whom we revere,
Is He not the Father of all climes and lands?
Form an alliance, holy and sincere,
And join, join hands!”
The song died away in a tremulous wave of melody, and a pearly light
began to suffuse the atmosphere like the first suggestion of the
opening morn. Weary and pale, but still dauntless and unconquered, the
Angel of the Light dealt stroke for stroke, blow for blow against his
Enemy, when all at once, with a sudden and savage onslaught, the Angel
of the Darkness caught his opponent by the arm which held the sword,
and almost wrenched the dazzling weapon from his hand. And then the
Angel of the Light gave a great cry of supplication.
“O God of Justice and of Love!” petitioned the silver-sounding voice;
“Suffer not Thy Christian kingdom to be torn from Thy gracious
protection! Clear Thou this Cloud of evil days, and take away the
heavy weight of fear and of sorrow from the hearts of Thy stricken and
suffering people, who do not forget Thy mercies in the past! Give Me
the Crown, O God of Empires!--Give Me the King!”
And as the prayer was spoken, the Angel of the Darkness fell back,
weakened and dismayed, for the heavenly Warrior, grasping his sword
with redoubled force and purpose, dealt with it one mighty stroke
which brought his foe to the ground.
“Yield thou, mine Enemy!” cried the triumphant Angel; “Claim no more
that which was never thine! Seek no more that which shall never belong
to thee! Mine is the Crown!--mine is the Kingdom!--and mine, by the
grace of God, is the King!”
The widening dawn lightened the painted windows with a silver mist,
flecked through with palest rose, and the darkness, gathering together,
rolled itself up like a curtain and fled away. All shapes of evil and
visions of terror vanished;--and as the morning broke, the Angel of the
Light, alone and victorious, with snowy wings widespread, and fair face
bright with God’s own eternal splendour, lifted the King’s Crown in
both radiant hands towards Heaven, to meet the rays of the rising sun
and the full golden glory of the Day!