"Why didn't you point her out to me? I have such a curiosity to see her."
"It was to her I took off my hat, coming away from the church door."
"To her!" broke forth Mrs. D----, "to an actress! Horatio, I'm ashamed of
you. You wouldn't have caught me walking with you, if I had known!" She
shook her Sunday things indignantly; and there was another general smile,
as she took these representatives of her piety abruptly out of the room.
"Ail this is very interesting," said Pendlam, recovering his equanimity. "I
wonder what sort of a sermon I shall preach next Sabbath?"
We were invited to stay to luncheon. Horatio consented; but I declined, and
took my leave, much to the gratification of Susan's mother, no doubt.
Some months passed before I again saw Pendlam. Our next meeting was in the
street. I observed him coming towards me with the peculiarly abstracted and
intense expression which his face assumed under excitement.
"What now?" I asked.
"A little difficulty with my people," he said, with a forced smile. "I have
just come from a church meeting; it was terribly hot there!"
"No serious trouble, I hope?"
"O, no,--only, you will hardly be surprised to hear, my preaching has been
somewhat too liberal for them."
"Why, sir," I cried, "if I remember right, you were for restoring the more
rigorous and stringent forms of religion; drawing the rein and tightening
the girth."
"Most certainly! and do you not see? Step by step I worked back to the
primitive and central principle, the soul of all religion. You know what
that is. It is Love! This I have preached," said Pendlam, his features
suffused, his eyes glistening bright; "and this I shall continue to preach,
while life lasts. Persecution cannot influence me. I know my duty, and I
shall perform it, at all risks. You see where I am," added Pendlam.
I was thrilled to admiration by his enthusiasm and heroic resolution. At
the same time I saw him in that transitional state which is so full of
peril to persons of certain temperaments, escaping into too sudden freedom
and light from the walls of a narrow and gloomy belief; and I could not
but smile, with mingled amusement and commiseration, at his singular
step-by-step processes.
It was during the following autumn that Horatio and I one day looked in
upon a reform meeting, held at the Melodeon. The audience was thin, the
speakers numerous. The platform was crowded with male and female reformers,
among whom I recognized our clerical friend Pendlam. A celebrated female
orator sat down, and Pendlam stood up. The audience cheered a little; the
platform cheered a good deal. He at first stammered and hesitated, not from
want of thoughts, but from their pressure and multitude. They soon fused,
however, and poured forth streams of fire, rather largely mixed with smoke.
"There is no other religion but Love," declared the speaker. "And where
Love is, there is Religion; in the Mohammedan, in the Mormon, in the
savage,--I care not for names. And where Love is not, there Religion is
not, though her image be preserved and clothed in all Christian forms.
Theology and sects fall away from it; it is alone vital; it is eternal, it
is unitary, it is God. Here I proclaim it to the world; here I announce to
you and to all where I stand."
This speech was reported along with others in the morning papers. It was
not long before Pendlam had more church business to perplex him; and he
soon withdrew from the pastorship of his troublesome flock. A number of
these went with him; there was a schism in the church; and the following
spring, a new society was formed, which gave Pendlam a call.
I also gave him a call, at his house. Changes had taken place since my last
visit. I was shocked at Susan's altered appearance. She had had an infant,
and untold trouble along with it. The bloom of the bride was gone, and
the finer permeating beauty of the happy mother had failed to replace it.
Mrs. D---- was with her. This excellent lady received me with surprising
politeness, and brought out the little Pendlam for my inspection.
"Is it possible, Susan, that this living, breathing, dimpled little wonder
is yours?"
"I suppose it is," said the blushing Susan.
"Where is its father?" I inquired, for John Henry had not yet appeared.
"It hasn't got any father!" ejaculated Mrs. D----, with grim sarcasm. "A
man can't be a reform-preacher, and a father too. His sermons, lectures,
and conventions are of too much importance for him even to think of his
wife and child."
I looked to see poor Susan writhe with pain under these harsh words. But
she merely heaved a sigh, and let fall a tear on the babe, which she had
taken from its grandmother's arms.
"I will speak to Mr. Pendlam," she said, as she hastily left the room.
"I am glad you have come," said Mrs. D----, bitterly, seating herself on
the sofa. "I am glad to see any person enter this house, who isn't all
eaten up with the evils of society. I have heard about the evils of society
till I'm heartily sick of them. People that come to see Pendlam don't
generally talk about anything else. It's the ruin of him, as I tell Susan;
I never in this world can be reconciled to his leaving his church."
Mrs. D---- became confidential, and abused her daughter's husband in a
style which did not argue much for the peace of his household during that
energetic lady's visits. Her indignation against him had quite swallowed
up her old cherished resentment against myself. She soon went so far as to
insinuate a regret that Susan had not married a man of solid sense and some
mental ballast, (meaning me,) instead of a hotheaded reformer.
Susan reentered. "Mr. Pendlam is very busy; but he will come down
presently."
She sighed, and took a seat. Mrs. D---- continued her abuse of her
son-in-law, in her daughter's presence,--which I thought in very bad taste,
to say the least. Susan uttered not one word in her husband's defence,
but simply sat and sighed. I defended and praised him; for which act of
friendship I earned not one look of gratitude from her, and only contempt
and sneers from her mother.
I was glad when Pendlam appeared. He was looking care-worn and toil-worn;
his expression had grown more intense than ever. His face lighted up a
little at sight of me; but it was some minutes before his mind seemed
capable of extricating itself from its abstractions, and meeting me upon
social grounds.
"You will excuse me. I am heartily rejoiced to see you. I was hard at work.
Just pass your hand over my forehead; it will relieve the pressure upon
my brain. My mission is now fully revealed to me; everything is reform,
reform. I have been led here step by step. Your magnetism is very soothing.
The old crumbling walls of creeds and conventionalities are to be swept
away, and their foundations subjected to the plough and the harrow. I am in
the harness. I have no motive for concealment; I tell you frankly where I
stand," said Pendlam. Another long sigh from Susan. Mrs. D---- tossed her
contemptuous chin, and expressed scorn in divers significant ways.
"I should want to conceal a little, if I was in your place," she remarked,
cuttingly.
"Truth is truth; it can harm only those who are in error," said Pendlam.
"It certainly hasn't done you a very great amount of good." Another toss of
the contemptuous chin.
"On the contrary, it has done me incalculable good," answered the
son-in-law, with a smile.
"Oh! you consider it good, then, to be cut off from the church,--to give up
a good situation and sure salary,--to lose the respect of everybody whose
respect is worth having!"
"If I have done all this for the truth's sake, it is good,"--the reformer's
face kindled with enthusiasm,--"and I for one find it good."
"Perhaps you do, but I know who don't. I believe reform, like charity,
begins at home. You talk of your duty to humanity; I believe the first duty
is to one's own family. I don't think much of that man's mission to the
world, who forgets his own wife and child."
Horatio had previously told me, what I could hardly believe, that Mrs.
D---- was accustomed to abuse her son-in-law in this way, in the presence
of strangers. Susan did nothing but sigh. Pendlam smiled, as if he was used
to it.
"I need a little such invective occasionally, to refresh my zeal," he
said, with provoking meekness. "It shows me where I am. It assures me
that I am fighting the good fight. I do not blame my good mother; she
is worldly-minded, and sees things from her stand-point. Neither she nor
Susan can perceive anything but loss and disgrace, in the change from the
handsome, fashionable church, where I used to preach, to the naked hall
where our new society holds its meetings. Very natural for people upon
their plane. But I view things from another stand-point, to which I have
been led step by step; and I have simply to be true to my own revealed
mission."
"Mission! revealed! step by step! planes and stand-points!" exclaimed Mrs.
D----, rising in great disgust. "For my part, I believe in common sense; I
don't know any other plane or stand-point, and _I_ don't believe Providence
ever intended we should have any other. There, you have my opinion!" And
with a violent gesture, as if throwing her opinion from her, and shutting
our little party into the room with that formidable object, she swept out,
slammed the door after her, and rustled remorselessly up stairs.
"Persons upon her plane are very much to be pitied," observed Pendlam,
quietly.
Susan began to cry, and the scene became so painful to me, that I made
haste to shake hands with the ill-mated couple, say a few soothing words,
and take leave of them. From that time, I saw Pendlam occasionally, but
avoided the house. It was a peculiarity of his impressible nature, to
imbibe, unconsciously to himself, the sentiments of powerful persons
with whom he came in contact, retain and revolve them in his intellect,
until they reappeared as his own original convictions. He now went with
reformers, and carried with him their atmosphere. To hear him talk, you
would have thought universal reorganization at hand. I said I avoided
the house; but one day Horatio came to me with a doleful face, backing a
petition that I would go and talk with Susan.
"There has been an explosion! The old woman is gone; she has declared open,
internecine war against Pendlam."
"I thought she had declared that some time ago, good Horatio!"
"Ah, but now she is trying to get his wife away from him! She has sent
plenipotentiaries, with threats and entreaties, and they have frightened
Susan out of her poor little wits. Go and reassure her."
"Horatio, I am not certain what would be best. They never belonged
together. But at your request, I will go and see what I can do."
I went. Susan received me with an effort at a smile, which was a failure,
and at my inquiry for Pendlam, burst into tears.
"He is not dead, I hope."
"No," sobbed Susan.
"Nor in jail?"
"No." Another sob.
"Nor in any serious trouble?"
"Trouble enough, Heaven knows! Mother has gone. I don't know what to do.
All the nice people we used to visit with have turned against us."
"But our happiness does not depend upon nice people, you know, dear Susan."
"But he is getting into the strangest ways! Shabby folks, with long beards,
come to see him. He has left off family devotions."
Susan was weeping; when, at a quick step in the hall, she took alarm, and
hurried from the room, just in time to hide her tears from her husband.
"Alone?" said Pendlam.
"No; Susan has just left me."
"I am glad you have come. I have thought for several days that I required
your magnetism. Every thing with me now is magnetism. My nature demands a
certain magnetism, as the appetite demands a certain quality of food. There
are coarse magnetisms, and fine magnetisms; yours is peculiarly agreeable
to me. Some repel me, and some attract irresistibly. I have only to follow
my impressions, to get what is necessary for me. That's where I am," said
Pendlam.
He urged me to stay and dine; and as I desired an opportunity to converse
further with Susan, I consented. I was surprised to see a dish of roast
meat come upon the table,--Pendlam having, for the past year, preached
vegetarianism. But he assured me that he had not changed his theory of
dietetics.
"There are times, however, when we require the magnetisms of certain animal
foods. To-day I perceived that my system demanded the magnetism of lamb.
If your constitution is wanting in the lamb element, you will find this
tender."
Pendlam, I should observe, had neglected to say grace.
"Your theory of magnetisms," said I, "would seem a very convenient one.
To-morrow, for example, you can require the magnetism of roast beef.
The next day, the magnetisms of turtle-soup and venison will be found
agreeable. The magnetisms of some birds are said to be excellent. And
I have no doubt but in time you will arrive at the discovery, that the
magnetism of a certain distilled beverage, called brandy, stimulates
digestion."
Pendlam laughed and blushed.
"I have not forgotten that for three good years of my life I waged war
against King Alchohol. (Will you try a bit of the lamb?) But I do not push
my principles over the verge of prejudice, as those do who condemn the
grape."
"Condemn the grape?" I repeated.
"The juice of the grape, which is the same thing. Where this can be
obtained pure, it will be found highly beneficial to persons on a certain
plane. The grape magnetism is eminently spiritualizing."
So saying, to my utter astonishment, Pendlam uncorked a small bottle, which
I had supposed to contain pepper-sauce, and commenced pouring out WINE.
"This will answer in lieu of grace," I suggested.
"The act of prayer," said Pendlam, "has indisputable uses. It opens the
avenues to an influx of spiritual magnetisms. But where the mind is kept
in the receptive condition without the aid of the external form of prayer,
this becomes like a scaffolding after the house is built. Step by step, I
have been led to this high spiritual plane."
Susan, as of old, sat and sighed.
Pendlam found my magnetism so attractive, that it was impossible for me to
obtain a minute's conversation with Susan alone. I departed, wearied and
disheartened with her sad, despairing face haunting me.
I had little further personal knowledge of Pendlam's career, until Horatio
came for me, one evening, to attend a meeting of the Disciples of Freedom.
We found the Melodeon crowded by one of those stifling audiences for which
no ventilation seems availing. A portion had come to be interested, a
portion to be amused. To the former, the object of the meeting was wise and
great; to the latter, it was ridiculous enough to be worth an evening's
senseless laughter. For my own part, only the strong desire I felt to
observe the characteristics of a new sect daily increasing in numbers and
influence could induce me to undergo the exhaustion of sitting an hour in
such an assembly.
We took seats in an obscure corner, and looked around. Here were curious,
lank stalks of humanity, which seemed to have been raked from unheard-of,
outlandish stubbles. Occasionally, in beautiful relief out of these, a
clear, full-berried stem of ripened grain lifted its gracious head. It was
a strange mixture; a strange power, indeed, that had swept together such
promising wheat and such refuse chaff and straw in one incongruous mass.
We turned our eyes to the platform. There sat Pendlam, with other prominent
Disciples. A young man was speaking wise and beautiful words. From the
well of a deep and sincere soul he drew needed counsel for the perishing
multitude; said what he seemed impelled to say, and sat down. He was
followed by a sallow-visaged, black-bearded speaker, who poured forth
abundant venomous froth of denunciation. He had caught enough of the
phraseology of the more philosophical Disciples, to impress the earnest
ignorant with some show of profundity. I was glad when his stream dried up.
Pendlam next arose and read a paper upon "Magnetisms and Organizations."
After him, came forward a gentleman with a model, illustrating the design
of a dwelling-house for the Associated Disciples. He showed, entirely
to the satisfaction of himself at least, that society should be reduced
to a mechanism, and mankind to pivots and wheels. This was the dawn of
the millennial era. The world was to be saved by organization. First, an
association; then an association of associations, which should spread
over the United States, abolish taxes, banks, slavery, and private
property, elect its president, annex South America, the British and
Russian possessions, and eventually Europe, Africa, and Asia. The model
dwelling-house was likened to a manger, in which Christ was to be born,
at his second coming. The speaker ended by introducing the "Practical
Organizer of the Initial Association of Free Disciples."
Horatio and myself had already remarked upon the platform an individual
whose features seemed somehow familiar to us. He was rather stoutly built,
full-faced, of a sanguine complexion and temperament. His mouth indicated
both sensuality and decision of character. His forehead was prominent and
low, his eye keen, his neck thick and muscular. We were not surprised to
see him arise and step forward as the Practical Organizer of the Initial
Association of Free Disciples.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said he, "I am no orator. I am a business man. I am
not here to make a speech, but to tell you about the practical part of this
Association."
At the first words he spoke, a flood of recollections rushed over me. For a
moment my breath was quite taken away.
"I know him!" "I remember him!" Horatio and I whispered almost
simultaneously.
His voice was unmistakable. He was the fellow who had flogged Pendlam four
years before.
Extremes had met. The temperance missionary and the infuriate liquor-dealer
stood upon the same platform.
Soon after, we took our leave. We walked up and down in the fresh air. How
sweet, how cool it seemed, after an hour spent amid the heated breaths of
the packed audience!
I had parted from my friend, and was returning home, when I met two persons
walking arm in arm. I heard one of them say,--
"I find that no great work can be accomplished, without due regard paid
to magnetisms; and in organization, we must take care that they are
harmoniously distributed. I find that I now assume relations with every
individual according to these subtile laws. You see where I am," said
Pendlam.
For Pendlam was the speaker. His companion was the Practical Organizer of
the Initial Association of Free Disciples.
I went home, filled with a multitude of reflections. Strong interest led
me soon after to pay a visit to Pendlam's house. As I went in, I met a
man coming out. He had a stout frame, keen eye, sensual mouth, sanguine
complexion, muscular neck.
"Susan," said I, "who is that man?"
"One of my husband's friends," answered Susan, in some confusion.
"And yours?"--eyeing her closely.
"Oh, he comes frequently to the house; I see him occasionally."
"'Tis he who gave Pendlam that bottle of wine?"
"I believe so."
"And that flogging, Susan!"
"Oh, they have made that up," said Susan, innocently.
"If they are satisfied, I have nothing to say. Are you happy, Susan?" for a
change had come over her, which I did not readily understand.
"Oh, dear!" said Susan, "we have had so much trouble!" She began to give
way to her emotions. "We have lost all our old friends. Mother never comes
near us now. Sometimes I don't know what we shall do. Tell me what you
think of it;--is Henry so much out of the way as people think? He certainly
knows more than anybody else, and I don't see how he can be wrong." She
ended with a sob.
"You are aware," I answered, "that Pendlam and I partly agree in every
thing, and wholly agree in nothing. He is right, and he is wrong. He takes
hold of what is a truth, but detaches it from universal truth, and so it
becomes an error." I saw she did not comprehend. "But never despair," I
added, "The future depends upon you."
"What can I do?" she pleaded.
"Remain firm in principle, dear Susan. Whatever happens, stand true to him
and to yourself. Do that, and all will be well."
The crying of her child, which was sick, called her away. I sought
Pendlam's study. I found him busily writing. He was pale and thin, and
there was a wild brightness in his eye which did not please me.
"You, of all men!" he exclaimed. "Sit down." He closed the door, with an
air of mystery. "I was just writing to you."
"To me? Then I have saved you the trouble of employing a messenger."
"Susan would be mortified and incensed, if she knew what I am about to say.
But truth is truth. She is perishing; I see new evidence of it every day.
It is for want of magnetisms. I have little to give her, and what I have
is not such as she requires. Do not be astonished when I tell you I have
discovered that there do not exist between us the requisite affinities."
I smiled; for Pendlam was continually announcing discoveries of facts I had
discovered long before.
"You see where I am," said Pendlam. "I am compelled to go to other women
for the magnetisms I need; she must receive what she requires from other
men."
"That is interesting," I replied. "What is the peculiar process of
imparting these magnetisms?"
"Sometimes by conversation,--sometimes by the contact of hands,--perhaps
by a kiss; no rule is laid down; the process must depend upon the kind of
magnetism to be imparted."
"Very naturally. But what have I to do with all this?"
"I will tell you. I was not Susan's first choice; but you were. That fact
is very significant; it shows an affinity. And what I desire is, that--"
"My dear John Henry," I interrupted, "allow me to say that you are quite
mistaken. If I know any thing of affinities, there is none between Susan
and myself; no more, I judge, than there is between you and the gentleman I
met going out, as I was coming in.
"Oh,--Clodman! You saw him?" cried Pendlam.
"Yes, and remember distinctly seeing him at least twice before; once as the
Practical Organizer of the Initial Association of Free Disciples, and once
as the self-appointed castigator of unfortunate temperance missionaries."
"You are pleased to be sarcastic," said Pendlam, mildly. "He is a very
useful man to us. I welcome his visits to my house; for I consider his
magnetism highly beneficial to Susan."
"Then, by all the gods at once, you wrong me!" I said. "If that man's
magnetism is what she needs, to suppose that mine is, also, is an insult. I
lose patience with you, O most free Disciple!"
"I see," replied Pendlam, with a smile, "you have not yet reached the plane
of perfect freedom. I cannot argue with you; but when you have had certain
necessary experiences, and arrived at my stand-point, you will see as I
do."
He conducted me to the door, rather coolly. I stopped a moment to speak to
Susan.
"For the love of Heaven," I said, "remember what I told you. You don't know
how much depends upon you!"
Susan stared. I left her staring.
About this time Miss Kellerton returned, and played a brilliant engagement.
I accompanied Horatio one evening to witness her fourth appearance in a
new play, which had taken the theatrical portion of the city by storm.
The play-house was packed from top to bottom. We had our seats in the
orchestra, where we enjoyed a view of both actors and audience, and a cool
breeze from behind the scenes. For criticisms of the performance, I must
refer the reader to the newspapers of the period. Horatio cheered like a
madman. He was quite beside himself with enthusiasm, especially at the
close of the third act. He was clapping furiously, and looking about upon
the audience to see who else was cheering, when he suddenly stopped, his
hands asunder, his countenance transfixed with an alarming expression. I
thought he had clapped himself into a fit.
"Horatio!" I cried,--"Horatio! what's the matter?"
"Look! look!"
"Where?"
"Yonder! by the pillar!" I now thought (his head being turned) that
perchance he beheld a ghost. "Don't you see?--Pendlam!"
It was true;--there sat the reformer, out-cheering Horatio himself! By
his side was Susan, looking brighter and happier than I had seen her for
months. By _her_ side sat--
"That rascal Clodman!" hissed Horatio, through his teeth.
Miss Kellerton came before the curtain. A vast tumult of applause burst
forth and died away. Pendlam cheered after all the rest had ceased. Then
he and Clodman conferred,--the face of the latter so near Susan's, as he
leaned before her, that Horatio swore he kissed her. Both Pendlam and Susan
were beaming with smiles.
"This recreation will do them good," I whispered.
"That Clodman is a villain!" muttered Horatio. "Ask Miss Kellerton; she
knows him. But, villainy aside, what a stupendous joke it is to see Pendlam
here!"
Horatio arose, flushed and excited.
"Where are you going?" I demanded.
"I'll tell you soon. Let me pass."
He left the theatre. I did not see him again until the play was over. He
made his way to the orchestra box where I sat, in time to applaud Miss
Kellerton's final appearance before the curtain. Then he grasped my arm.
"Come with me; they are going!"
He indicated Pendlam's party. We passed up the aisle, reached the hall, and
waited for them at the foot of the stairs. Presently they appeared. Clodman
was praising the performance; Susan expressed her delight; Pendlam said
something about miscellaneous magnetisms. They had reached the foot of
the stairs, when Horatio sprang upon them like a brigand, and seized John
Henry's collar.
"Ha! Horatio!" gasped Pendlam, a good deal startled.
"Too late to escape!" And Horatio drew a tract upon him, like a revolver.
"Here is something, sir, which I think will suit your case," levelling it at
Pendlam's throat.
"Ha!" stammered Pendlam, reading the title, "'The Theatre a Stronghold of
Vice; a Sermon, by--'"
"By the Reverend John Henry Pendlam," roared out Horatio. "Pendlam, the
distinguished temperance-preacher!"
A lurid smile played over the grim features of the Practical Organizer.
"Pendlam has outgrown his former opinions," he said, with a look of hate at
Horatio.
"Not precisely," said Pendlam. "I have simply enlarged them, or rather
added to them. I preach temperance the same; but every man must be his own
master. The vices of the theatre appear just as hideous to me as ever; but
the theatre itself may be redeemed, and made an instrument of salvation. As
the patronage of bad people rendered it what it has been, so the patronage
of the good is required to make it what it should be. The divine magnetism
of a few spiritual persons in the audience must necessarily affect, not
only the remainder of the audience, but also the actors. In our new
Association--"
"Come!" growled the Practical Organizer, turning away, with Susan leaning
confidingly on his arm; "shall we go?"
"Excuse me. I will give you my ideas of a spiritual drama another time.
I'll take this sermon. I shall read with interest what I had to say on the
subject before my mind had attained its present plane. Good night! You see
where I am," added Pendlam.
Thenceforward the Pendlams were frequent visitors at the theatres. When
John Henry was too much occupied to attend, Clodman had the gallantry to
escort Susan. This was considered exceedingly kind in Clodman; he not only
treated Susan to delightful dramatic performances, but at the same time
imparted to her his valuable magnetism.
One Sabbath evening Horatio came suddenly upon me in the street, and pulled
me breathlessly around a corner.
"Wait till I can speak; the miracle of miracles! I have been to--to call on
HER; and who do you suppose had been dining with her?"
I named successively several noted actress-hunters and snobs, whose names
disgusted Horatio. "Who then?" I asked.
"Pendlam! Pendlam! Pendlam!" ejaculated Horatio. "He wanted to consult HER
upon the subject of creating a Divine Drama, or some such nonsense."
"Possibly a new Divine Comedy," I suggested.
"She made him stay and dine on Sunday! And will you believe it?--he
finds her magnetic impartations, as he calls them, highly agreeable and
advantageous to his constitution! Bless him! he isn't the first man who has
found them agreeable, if not so advantageous. But she gave him a dose!"
"Of what?"
"Of bitter truth about Clodman. She knows him for a villain, and told him
so. I was there, and glad to hear it. But I was enraged. I could have
wrung John Henry Pendlam's neck for him, when he said, with his quiet,
charitable, mild, incredulous smile, that he was already aware there
existed in the community _a good deal of prejudice_ against Clodman!"
Matters were now progressing rapidly to a crisis. One day during the
ensuing summer, I asked Horatio the usual question, "Where is Pendlam
now?"--referring, as John Henry himself would have said, not to locality,
but condition.
"That is impossible to say," replied Horatio, "for I have not seen him
since yesterday. Then he was situated opposite a bottle of pale sherry,
which that rascal Clodman had just brought to the house. They were
drinking, and talking over the Organization of Free Disciples. Several
wealthy men have become interested in the enterprise, and large amounts
have been subscribed. Pendlam is writing a work on the subject."
"And Susan?"
"Her child is sick, and claims all her attention. They are trying to cure
it with magnetisms. Clodman is day and night at the house; his magnetism
being considered indispensable for the restoration of the child."
A month later, Horatio brought me word that the child was dead.
Another month, and I learned that Susan had been sent to some celebrated
Western Magnetic Springs for her health.
"How did she go?"
Horatio hesitated. "I am sorry to say she has gone with that rascal
Clodman, who is travelling on business for the Association. Pendlam remains
at home, hard at work on his book. I will now add what I did not wish you
to know," said Horatio. "For some months Pendlam's family subsisted almost
entirely upon funds advanced him by that rascal Clodman. They talk of
his wonderful generosity! But the villain has a wife of his own, and a
couple of young children, who are left to suffer for want of the actual
necessaries of life. Pendlam has given up preaching, you know, in order to
devote himself entirely to the Association."
"Horatio, I am afraid that all is lost. I did hope better things of Susan.
Wretched, wretched girl!"
Tears came into Horatio's eyes. "How could the damnable thing ever happen?"
he exclaimed, passionately. "She was a true, honest girl; and Pendlam is
not a bad man."
"He is a man," I said, "who verily thinketh no evil. He has imagination,
intellect, spirituality; but he wants balance. From the first, I saw that
his powers needed centralizing. He had no hold upon integral truth, but
snatched here a fragment and there a fragment. Always distrust that man,
Horatio, that talks forever of planes, and stand-points, and step-by-step
processes, and deems it necessary to inform you each day where he stands."
"I do not know what could have saved him!" sighed Horatio.
"I know what could; an entire and absorbing love. His wife should have been
one towards whom all his thoughts and sympathies would have been drawn.
Such a love would have given him concentration, poise, unity. But, on the
other hand, his heart had no anchor, and his intellect was left adrift. He
has pursued truth, forgetting that truth is a tree, one and mighty, but
with innumerable branches; and that it is unsafe to risk the weight of
one's salvation upon a single bough. Susan had no part in his life; she
was left with that hungry, yearning heart, until the sympathy even of a
Clodman seemed food to her perishing nature. Pity her, Horatio, but do not
condemn."
The Initial Association failed. Clodman did not return; and it was found
that he had appropriated to his private use the funds of the Association.
Behind him he had left a distressed family, and many creditors. Where was
Susan?
I now thought it time to hunt up Pendlam. After no little search, I was
sent to an obscure lodging. I opened the door pointed out to me, and
entered an extraordinary chamber. The sides were covered with strange
diagrams, grotesque drawings, lettered inscriptions. Some were sketched
rudely upon the plastering with colored chalk; others were designed
upon paper, and pasted on the wall. In the centre of the room sat an
indescribable human figure, with its face buried in its hands. It wore an
anomalous garment, slashed with various colors, like a harlequin's coat.
Upon one shoulder was sewed the semblance of a door cut out of blue cloth;
on the other, a crescent cut out of green. Upon the head was set a tinsel
crown, amid tangles of disordered hair. Above was a huge brass key,
suspended by a tow string from the ceiling. Table and floor were littered
with manuscripts and papers; under the former I observed an empty bottle.
I spoke. The figure started, and looked up. In the sallow cheeks, untrimmed
beard, sunken and encircled eyes, I recognized Pendlam. A quick flush
spread over his haggard features, and he made a snatch at his tinsel crown.
"Do not be disturbed," I entreated.
He smiled, but with an air of embarrassment; and leaving the tinsel upon
his uncombed head, pointed to the wall.
"You see where I am," said Pendlam.
"I see, yet do _not_ see."
"I have reached the plane of symbols. You are aware that there is something
in symbols?"
"A great deal! a great deal!" I said, from a sorrowful heart, as I glanced
around me.
Pendlam, who had spoken doubtingly, seemed encouraged.
"Symbols are the highest expression of spiritual thought. Both words and
pictures are used. They are the language of the spirit, which only the same
spirit can understand. Look here, and you will see some symbols of a very
astonishing character."
"Astonishing," said I, "is a mild word!"
"And what is equally astonishing," added the eager reformer, "is the
manner in which they are produced. The hand is moved to write or draw them
spontaneously. The symbol comes first, the interpretation afterwards. Here
is a vulture soaring away with a lamb. It has a meaning."
"A deep meaning!" I added. "We have known such a vulture!"
"Here," he cried,--too excited to heed any words but his own,--"are swine
feeding upon golden fruit."
"Oh, the swine! Oh, the precious, wasted, golden fruit!"
"Here is one in words; it reads, _Beware of falling from a balloon_. It
requires a peculiar experience," added Pendlam, with a smile, "to enable
one to understand that beautiful symbol."
"Perhaps I have not had the requisite experience; but"--I laid my hand on
Pendlam's shoulder--"I know a man who has fallen from several balloons!"
"Here is one," said Pendlam, turning to the table, "which I have just
drawn. I was trying to get at its meaning when you came in." He showed me a
sketch consisting of a number of zigzag lines, joined one to another, and
tending towards a circle.
"My dear John Henry," said I, "any person who has watched your course for
the last four or five years will readily see the meaning of that symbol. It
is a map of your voyage of discoveries."
"Such tacking and shifting?" queried Pendlam, with a smile commiserating my
ignorance.
"Just such tacking and shifting. If you had possessed a good compass, it
would have shown you."
Pendlam caught at the word compass. "It is singular;--you must have some
spiritual perception;--it was written through my hand nine days ago,
_Purchase a compass_. Here is the writing; I placed it upon the wall as a
symbol; and I have intended buying a compass as soon as I could get the
means."
"Ah, John Henry," said I, "there is more in your symbols than you suppose.
You want no purchasable compass."
Pendlam rewarded my simplicity with another pitying smile.
"Here," said he, "you who know so much of symbols, explain this. _Avoid the
shores of Old Spain_. I have not yet penetrated its meaning."
"Leave it," I replied, "with the unexplained Pythagorean symbol touching
abstinence from beans. Perhaps future events will reveal it."
Pendlam smiled as before. But was I not right? Did not lamentable events in
the not far-off future give to the symbol a melancholy significance?
"Come," I said, "leave these abstruse studies; take off that symbolic coat,
that tinsel crown; wash, comb your hair, and walk with me."
"I should enjoy a walk," replied Pendlam; "but I am directed to retain
these symbols upon my person, and you would hardly wish me to appear in the
street with them."
"Directed!--by what authority?"
"By the Spirit. Some beautiful use is to be fulfilled. I see where you
are," added Pendlam;--"from your stand-point it must look absurd enough."
I sat down, and endeavoured to reason with him. But I found it impossible
for a person upon my plane to reach with any argument a person upon his. In
vain I recapitulated his successive trials and failures.
"It is true," he confessed, "I have been called to pass through some
strange experiences. But all were necessary steps; and I have now reached
a stand-point from which I can look back and see in its indisputable
place every grade of the progressive ascent. There has been only apparent
failure. Our attempted Association was a necessary foreshadowing of what
remains to be unfolded; a prophetic symbol. We have all been taught great
lessons."
"And the vulture and the lamb!" I said, sternly; "where are they?"
"I perceive," answered Pendlam, charitably, "you do not understand."
"It is you," I cried, "who have failed to understand your own symbols.
To use plain language, then, where is Susan? She is the lamb that was
entrusted to your keeping, and that you suffered the obscene bird to carry
away!"
"You are pleased to employ harsh terms," said Pendlam, meekly. "Susan has
done well; she has followed her attractions, and that is obedience to the
Spirit. Perfect freedom is essential to progression. Consequently, above
a certain plane, monogamy, which has undeniable primitive uses, ceases to
exist. The laws of chemical affinity teach this by analogy. When the mutual
impartations which result from the conjunction of positive and negative
have blended in a state of equilibrium, there is consequent repulsion, and
the law of harmonies ordains new combinations. You see where I am," said
Pendlam.
Disheartened and sorrowful, I set out to go. At the door I turned back.
"Can I do anything for you, John Henry?"
"Not unless"--Pendlam hesitated a moment--"if you have a dollar to spare?"
I gave him a bank-bill. As he leaned forward to receive it, he struck his
head against the suspended key.
"Another symbol," I said. _"Break not your brains upon the key of brass."_
He scratched his head, rearranged his tinsel, and smiling, advanced to show
me the stairs. I looked back once: there crowned he stood, in his symbolic
coat, with the green crescent and blue door on the shoulders; and as a gust
from the stairway blew open the garment, I beheld a great yellow heart on
his breast. That picture remained impressed upon my vision. In the street,
I recalled the room, the drawings, the inscriptions,--all so tragical and
saddening! I had not proceeded far, when, moved by greater compassion, I
turned and retraced my steps. At the door of the house, I saw the servant
girl who had admitted me coming out with a bottle, and thought it the same
I had seen lying empty under Pendlam's table. I followed her into a grocery
on the corner. She called for gin, and paid for it out of my bank-bill.
I now changed my mind, and went to consult Horatio. It was concluded that
Pendlam's old habits of thought and associations ought to be entirely
broken up. Deserted, destitute, dependent, he condescended, after long
holding out against us, to listen to what we proposed. Hearing of a vacancy
in a newspaper office in a western city, we had procured for him the
situation. Not without a struggle, he consented to accept it, abandoned his
darling reformatory projects, and set out for his new sphere.
His position was that of subordinate writer; and for a time he maintained
it with considerable ability. But he grew restless under restraint; and at
length, taking advantage of the managing editor's absence, he published
articles on prohibited subjects, which lost the paper half its subscribers,
and him his situation. When next heard of, he was gaining a meagre
subsistence by writing theatrical puffs,--employment for which he was
indebted to the kindness of a certain influential actress named Kellerton.
In the mean time Susan returned from her unhappy wanderings; and her
mother's family, seizing upon her like wolves, hid her from the world in
their den. And I was pleased not long after to read that an individual
named Clodman, a noted swindler, had recently been shot in a street-fight
in St. Louis, by a husband whose domestic peace he had disturbed.
The last word of all, that ends this strange, eventful, and, alas! too true
history, remains to be said.
For some months, we had heard nothing of Pendlam. But last week I received
a bundle of Roman Catholic publications, one of which contained an article
proclaiming a miraculous conversion of the distinguished reformer, and
thereby greatly glorifying Catholicism.
The same mail brought me a letter from the convert.
"At last," he wrote, "I have found peace in the bosom of the Holy Catholic
Church. All my previous experiences were necessary to lead me where I am.
This is the divine association I was so long seeking elsewhere in vain;
I find in its forms the true symbols of a universal religion; and I now
perceive that the seeming errors, in which I was for a time permitted to
stray, were wisely designed to convince me of the sublime truth, that
celibacy is the single condition befitting a holy apostolic teacher."
Amid the flood of reflections that rushed upon me, arose prominent the
image of poor Pendlam's unexplained symbol: "_Avoid the shores of old
Spain._" Had it not now received its interpretation? The tossed voyager,
failing to make the continent of truth, but beating hither and thither amid
the reefs and breakers of dangerous coasts, mistaking many islands for the
main, and drifting on unknown seas, had at last steered straight to the old
Catholic shores, from which the great discoverers had sailed so many years
before.