A POWERFUL PULSE STIRRED
Truth, when stripped of the masks and stains that have been
unwittingly put upon her, hath a fair countenance, and all who
behold her inner beauty thus revealed, have a drawing in their
hearts towards her.
The blue sparkling waves closed over the grave of the Salapiæ with no sigh
of repentance, their sportive play having suffered but a moment of
interruption. Tears filled the eyes of Vivian as she disappeared, but soon
he regained his wonted composure. From long‐continued intimacy she had
seemed almost a living thing, and he had regard for every plank and spar
which pertained to her. Now she was gone forever.
But mingled with the sense of loss there was a great joy, not only on
account of the assured safety of every soul which had been under his care,
but that the prophecy, for its own sake and that of Serenus, had been so
signally verified. He hailed it as a positive sign and confirmation of the
wisdom of his friend, and still more of the power of the New Faith which
had been awakened within him. To his belief was added demonstration.
The weather being fine, the little group, at the invitation of Marcius,
were seated under a canopy upon the upper deck of the Nereid, while
refreshments were being prepared for them below. The graceful galley, with
a favoring breeze and every sail set, was now speeding along towards
Tarsus.
“The gods be thanked that I sought the sea to‐day,” said Marcius.
“Verily we are thankful, and fully persuaded both of the wisdom and
goodness of thy choice,” replied Vivian.
“By Pallas! it doth seem strange! I had already directed the oarsmen to
make ready the small barge for an excursion up the Cydnus, and was almost
in readiness to depart. But a mysterious impulse seized me to change the
plan, and to order the Nereid to be manned for a day’s cruise instead.
Something well nigh like a voice importuned me to ‘put out to sea,’ and I
obeyed.”
“A truce to thy superstition,” said Leander. “Thou art always eager for
mystery, and unable to believe thy senses. I rejoice in thine altered
purpose, and that through it our friends can continue their sea voyage,
instead of taking a rough one over the Styx; but verily, thy fancy hath
become unruly.”
“O faithless Greek! thou believest nothing! Thou shouldst deny that the
wind ever bloweth because thou canst not see its color and shape! I am
persuaded that oracular voices are not alone in temples. Peradventure the
gods whispered to me!”
Leander shrugged his shoulders, and good‐humoredly smiled, with a derisive
air.
“Shades of Pluto! only children and women believe the unbelievable!”
Marcius was undisturbed by the reckless sarcasm of his friend, and calmly
continued,—
“He who limits his belief to the testimony of the senses is a fool, and
only lightly skims the surface of life. What sayest thou, Master Vivian?”
The flight of years had wrought an important change both in the character
and social position of Marcius, but the improvement in Leander was much
more superficial.
The mysterious meeting face to face with Alethea in the _adytum_ of the
Temple proved to be an important event in the experience and pursuits of
the Roman. After the weird night of that notable judgment and warning,
which through beautiful but terribly earnest lips were wafted from the
realm of the Unseen, he had become a man of higher ideals. Though fond of
races, athletics, and sports in general, the overt vices of former years
fell away, and he grew thoughtful, reserved, and even kindly in his
disposition. Being of patrician lineage, and possessing excellent native
ability as well as great wealth, he had, by the imperial edict of the
Emperor Tiberius, recently been appointed Vice Legate of Tarsus and its
outlying provinces, so that he was now next in rank to the Roman governor.
After the reign of Tiberius he was continued in the same position by
Gaius, and still afterwards by Claudius.
While he formally continued such outward devotion to the Roman and Tarsian
deities as was customary in Tarsus, there had grown to be a depth and
seriousness in his life which was unwonted for the period, and far removed
from the grossness of his earlier years. Though having but a dim
appreciation of true spiritual attainment, yet the corrupt and sensuous
worship of the time became increasingly unsatisfying. He openly avowed to
his friends that to his certain knowledge human life was unbroken by the
dark passage of the Styx, and that character and consciousness continued.
Aside, however, from a light round of official duties, his time was
largely given to wholesome amusements. But this did not prevent some
irregular study of Greek lore, and a little familiarity with the higher
ancient philosophy.
Although Leander was now outwardly respectable,—as the term went in
Tarsus,—there was a growing distance between the two friends which was
plain to both. Marcius permitted the continuance of some intimacy because
of former friendship, and also that his influence might be helpful to the
volatile Greek.
Vivian gave his unqualified assent to the question of Marcius, and added,—
“O my lord! my good friend Serenus hath much wisdom concerning the
philosophy of life, present and future, and hath taught me to my great
profit.”
Marcius cast an inquiring but rather incredulous look upon the young
Hebrew, and observed,—
“I am glad that thou art a philosopher! I have many questionings which
disquiet me. Peradventure we may reason together with profit. Pardon my
inquiry, art thou a Greek?”
The question was natural, as Serenus showed but little of the distinctive
Hebrew physiognomy, and especially as philosophical inquiry and
speculation were more common among the Greeks than any other nation.
However, his fair and almost youthful appearance had little in common with
the usual characteristics of a typical sage.
“I am a Hebrew, though a native of Alexandria,” replied Serenus modestly.
Marcius showed a little surprise; for his contact with the Hebrews of
Tarsus had made them seem abhorrent and bigoted, and the supposition that
an Israelite could be different was new. His sly, sarcastic look of
unbelief expressed as plainly as words could have uttered,—
“A philosophical Hebrew! A curiosity indeed!”
But quickly suppressing any appearance of disrespect, and noting the noble
and manly bearing of Serenus, he politely continued,—
“Pardon me! I have in no wise much knowledge of your people, but have had
the feeling that their philosophy, and religion also, consisted of a
foolish round of ceremonialism, and that their devotion is paid to one
poor and exclusive tribal deity. And have they not an exceeding contempt
for all other religions and peoples?”
With dignified calmness Serenus replied,—
“Thou judgest not unrighteously, my lord Marcius. I would that it were
altogether different.”
Marcius was pleased with the serene manliness of Serenus, and turning to
Vivian remarked,—
“Of all Hebrews, thy friend is the only one whom I have ever known in
whose eyes everything peculiar to his own people did not seem wholly
righteous.”
“Though born a Hebrew, I am persuaded that he discerneth the inner
goodness of all men,” replied Vivian.
“If he showeth that kind of a spirit, I shall be glad to listen, even if I
do not believe his teaching! Where, O Serenus! hath thy doctrines been
taught, and in what school hast thou found thy philosophy?”
“In my early youth I was a pupil of Philo of Alexandria, and afterwards
sat at the feet of the Rabban Gamaliel at Jerusalem. But with all due
honor to them, more hath come to me that pertaineth not to the schools.”
“From whence, then, is thy learning?”
“In worldly wisdom, science, and the Jewish law, I am beholden to their
teaching; but there remaineth a higher knowledge, the inner working of
which they but feebly discern. It hath to do with the life of man, now and
hereafter, and the cultivation of his spiritual forces.”
“I feel a concern touching these things, and would fain know more of life
and destiny. Peradventure some profit may come to me through thy wisdom.”
“I trow thou art not fully content with the teaching of the sages!
Doubtless thou art well versed in the philosophies of Pythagoras,
Socrates, Plato, and Epicurus?”
“I boast not myself of a deep understanding of their doctrines; but at
seasons when my sports have become wearisome, I have felt some inner
craving which I have sought to satisfy with their wisdom. But I confess to
thee that they have not fully ministered to my need.”
“Wherein lieth thy discontent, O my lord Marcius?”
“In my earlier years I counted myself an Epicurean; but it hath become
manifest that the doctrine of Epicurus hath lost its purity in the lives
and doings of its professed disciples. But I am persuaded that it hath
error from the beginning. Aforetime an experience in the _adytum_ of the
Temple at Tarsus showed me that death doth not end all, as hath been
taught. Since then I have earnestly desired the full truth.”
“Thou speakest wisely. The Epicurean philosophy contained some measure of
truth, but the disbelief of life after the grave is a deadly error.”
“Of that I am truly convinced. But what dost thou think of pleasure?
Epicurus taught that it was the chief end of life, but that it could only
be attained through a rational and prudent wisdom.”
“In other words, that excesses defeated the very thing sought!”
“Yea, verily; but his followers have put this out of mind.”
“Pleasure that cometh from righteousness is well, but that which seemeth
to come from slavery to the lower self, in due time bringeth forth a
harvest of self‐destruction!”
“I have had manifold witness of what thou sayest.”
“But there is a pleasure that endureth which cometh from conformity to the
higher law. Behold the spirit of that law may be summed up in love to all
men.”
Leander took no interest in the converse, and pleading some excuse,
retired to the cabin below, where he could read poetry or recite tragedy
in his own dramatic manner undisturbed. But Marcius, having an innate
fondness for philosophical and metaphysical speculations, was greatly
interested.
Amabel withdrew for rest to an apartment which had been specially assigned
to her; and as the Nereid sped on towards Tarsus, Marcius, Vivian, and
Serenus continued their familiar conversation.
“What thinkest thou, O Serenus! of the seeming voice which turned me from
the Cydnus to the sea? As it hath come to pass, had I not heeded it, every
soul on the Salapiæ would have gone down with her. Was it a whisper of one
of the gods?”
“The answer to thy question hath within it that which to all peoples and
religions is a great mystery. But the strangeness hath only been in their
perception. Peradventure it may seem an offence unto thy religion if I
speak freely unto thee.”
“Nay, I am pleased to listen; for I perceive that thou hast regard to the
truth, as thou believest, without prejudice.”
“I also perceive that thou, Lord Marcius, art a Roman of honor and
fairness of judgment. But to thy question. Be not surprised when I assure
thee that there is but one God, and not gods many!”
Marcius was momentarily impatient. There was a sternness in his large
black eyes which boded controversy and disagreement. But bethinking
himself of the respect due his guest, and of his own earnest request for
an answer, he quietly observed,—
“Pardon me; but I was minded from Vivian’s testimony concerning thy broad
philosophy, that thou didst no longer devote thyself to the leanness of
the single tribal god of thy people. Behold how much more free and
abundant is homage to all the gods!”
“Thou sayest well that the Hebrew ideal of God is narrow, mean, and
selfish! He is not great enough to regard any but themselves! With all
their sincerity, they worship a false god. But the gods of the Greeks and
Romans are also false. They have the same passions, weaknesses, and
changeableness that belong to men; they are but magnified images of their
worshippers!”
Marcius was so struck by the truth of the statement that he uttered no
protest, and Serenus continued,—
“The one true God is supreme over all. Through his perfect economy he
ordereth all nations and tribes, yea, and everything seen and unseen. He
loveth all, for he is Love. He is the eternal and omnipresent Spirit, who
hath no local habitation, for he filleth all space. In him we have our
breath and life, for he is the source of all being. We, being his
children, and made in his image, are spirits, as he is Spirit, even while
wearing fleshly garments.”
Marcius was silent, and listened with rapt attention.
“The Father of all things hath everything orderly in his dealings with the
world and the children of men. He hath from the beginning ordained powers
and laws which are unchangeably perfect in their operation; and man, by
acquainting himself with their methods and beneficent regularity, may
command their ministry. Through an understanding of them he may even grow
to be Godlike. Behold, man reckoneth himself to be a creature of the dust
and of short duration; and by an inner law which he knoweth not of he hath
completely filled the measure of his thought. It is an unchangeable,
divine behest, that man grows into the likeness of what he believes he
_is_. Behold, the Greeks and Romans desire good in their worship, but in
their craving to discern God,—the Unseen,—they have, in low degree,
personified his laws and forces to their hurt. Hence many gods of many
names! They have mistakenly tried to bring God down to their level,
instead of lifting their thought towards him—the Perfect and Unchangeable.
This is because their minds are fixed wholly upon the things that are
seen, and therefore they count their bodies to be themselves.”
Marcius was visibly moved.
“Thou hast faithfully drawn my likeness. I had always believed that the
body, or rather the head, which is a part of it, did the thinking, until
the vision of Alethea. Then I perceived that thinking was possible without
a seen body. I was beholden to believe what I saw, but knew not how it
could be.”
“Of a verity, it is the real self that thinks and knows; the body being
only its instrument of manifestation. Can a harp play of itself, without a
harper?”
“Thine interpretation is good! And now, as thou hast set forth the gods of
the Greeks and Romans, tell me more fully of the God of the Hebrews.
Surely they worship not such an one as thou hast commended?”
“The Hebrew is right in his belief of One; but his small and selfish ideal
concerning him hath brought forth the natural fruit of uncharitableness,
pride, and hollow ceremony. But I unlovingly condemn neither Roman, Greek,
nor Jew. Things that are imperfect satisfy not, and therefore finally work
out that which is higher. Because men believe their inner nature to be of
the seen instead of spiritual, they become carnal in the dim light of such
a standpoint, which is fixed among outward and deceptive appearances. The
knowledge of their inner being, and that they are the offspring of, and
one with, the Spirit, which is All in All, is not theirs, because they
look downward. But all the children of men are slowly feeling their way
towards God; and through the teaching of manifold tribulations will
finally behold the Father’s goodness, which will draw all to him. Could
they be persuaded that they are spirits now, no longer mistaking their
bodies for themselves, like the lilies, they would grow naturally towards
beauty and perfection. Love would drive out hatred, and inner spiritual
harmony replace the prevailing lower consciousness.”
“By Pallas,—pardon the force of habit,—thy philosophy is both reasonable
and well‐pleasing! Behold, while it is new to mine ears, something
within—peradventure the voice of the morning—seems almost to testify to
its truth. But thou hast not yet interpreted the utterance which led me to
turn from the Cydnus to the sea. It seemeth marvellous that, while it
guided me, I felt that I freely chose the cruise.”
“That which I have spoken may help in the understanding of the voice. The
mind of man is so subtly wrought that it hath many hidden forces which
commonly remain latent, and of the usefulness of which men are ignorant.
We may be likened to children with playthings in their hands, in which are
wrapped up signs and wonders. The dominion of soul or mind extendeth to
the ends of the earth, and is in no wise limited to the bodily members.
The Universal Spirit, though not regarded in man’s thoughts, often
speaketh to his inner nature. Like uttereth itself to like, and spirit to
spirit. Of a verity, it never ceaseth its whisperings to every inner ear
that is open. But few there be that listen. Peradventure in some way thou
art being prepared to be a listener. I am persuaded, therefore, that this
day, before the third hour, thou didst have a touch, in thine inmost soul,
of the peril of the Salapiæ, and a prompting of thy free will to come to
her relief. That which seemeth a mystery may be childlike and plain when
its orderly working is made known. Thou mightest also have been moved—like
as by a flash—by the outgoing of our own thought, which is a divine
operation put into our own hands for ministry and service to one another.”
“Then thou dost not count the voice as marvellous?”
“Peradventure a miracle to thee, because it seemeth strange in thine eyes;
but no more wonderful in itself than that the goodly Nereid is wafted
along by the air of heaven.”
The theologies of all the ages have uniformly held in disregard that which
has been termed “naturalism.” But it seems pertinent to inquire where its
boundary lines can be drawn, and, in fact, if it does not include
everything, both material and spiritual. If these terms were employed
simply to designate an orderly lower and higher in the established
economy, as they sometimes are, their usefulness would be obvious. But
they have been set in antithesis, one seeming to imply the divine and
orderly course of all sequence, and the other that economy broken into or
superseded. Can the perfect and unchangeable God contradict himself? Is
the spiritual realm less amenable to uniform method in the relation of
cause and effect than its external and material counterpart?
Just in proportion that the normality of the summits of moral and
spiritual attainment is presented, they are made attractive to the human
mind and consciousness. In the very nature of things, “supernaturalism,”
which savors of the unnatural and abnormal, fails to commend itself to the
highest reason. In some degree it is repellent. As human ignorance,
superstition, and irrational assumption are left behind, the hearts of men
go out after an orderly Deity. They turn towards him as naturally as
flowers open themselves to the sun. The book of nature contains a
symmetrical revelation of God, and there is nothing common nor unclean.
There is no “secular,” for all is sacred. Everything has been consecrated
without the intervention of the puny rites of man.
A lawful chain of sequences is as surely found in the soul as in chemistry
or physics. When the orderly beauty of individual spiritual unfoldment is
seen by man, be he high or low, ignorant or learned, bond or free, black
or white, Roman or Greek, pagan or Christian, his heart throbs, and his
desire warms towards the upward path which opens before him.
The announcement came up from below that refreshments were served, and
Marcius gracefully escorted his guests to the faultless repast. In the
beauty of every detail, the triclinium of the house of a Roman senator
could hardly have excelled the private dining‐apartment of the Nereid.
With artistic gracefulness flowers and perfumes were mingled with dainty
viands. The highly polished floor, which was tinted with minium, exhaled a
delicate, rose‐like odor. Four serving‐boys, in white robes of bissus,
entered while the guests were standing, and placed upon each corner of the
table a small tutelary statue, or Lar, and after all were reclining,
reverently raised an amphora of wine above their heads, exclaiming in
concert, “May the gods favor us!” Marcius seemed unconscious of any
ostentation, nothing being unusual. His guests were quite at ease. Choice
old Falernian and other wines were offered, but declined, and with the
true instinct of a host, Marcius partook very sparingly of them himself.
The conversation turned upon the recent storm, the experiences of the
Salapiæ, Tarsian life, the latest news from Rome, and other current
topics.
When the meal was ended they again ascended to the upper deck. With every
stitch of canvas drawing the fresh breeze, and every spar bending
gracefully with the pressure, the Nereid skimmed rapidly over the waves,
and erelong the separate towers and roofs of Tarsus began to resolve
themselves out of the broadening gray‐and‐white mass. The white sails of
the ships of many nations also dotted the harbor in the distance.
As soon as the little group were again seated, Marcius expressed his
desire to know yet more fully of the opinions and doctrines of Serenus.
“Thy philosophy seemeth so reasonable and pleasing that I would fain
listen to thee further. The worship of Jupiter, Hercules, and all the gods
of Rome and Tarsus hath not given me full satisfaction, and their former
purity hath become degenerated. But I would have none of the Hebrew
austerity and stiff ceremonialism. I have beheld their gall‐and‐wormwood
faces in Tarsus, and their sackcloth and ashes, self‐conceit and ugly
circumcision, disgust me. But thou art no Hebrew! If thou wert born to
them, thou art not of them, for thou beholdest good in all men.”
“I perceive that of a verity thou dost desire the truth,” replied Serenus.
“Whosoever seeketh it for its own sake will come more and more into its
light, and wax strong in its strength. Nothing less can break the shackles
of superstition and bigotry, whether of Hebrew, Greek, or Roman
fashioning, and set men free. Only he who seeth some good—yea, some
Godlikeness—in all hath his eyes open to behold the oneness and allness of
Truth, which includeth concord and love, and which is yet to be the great
religion of the children of men. The self‐sufficient and vain‐glorious
devotees of the many cults and theologies each believe themselves alone to
be righteous; for their outward gaze is fastened upon the most evil and
unreal aspects of all systems besides their own.”
“Thinkest thou that I have misjudged the Hebrew? Behold I have seen those
things of which I have spoken in the very streets of Tarsus.”
“I doubt not the outward appearances which thou hast witnessed; but even
in those hollow and ostentatious ceremonials there may be an inner good
intent. All men are blindly feeling after God,—the chief Good; but they
often lose themselves in the by‐paths of external authority and
unreasoning belief. Men have the utterance of the Spirit of Truth in their
inmost being, but they fail to interpret its drawing, because they are
listening to a confused chorus of voices outside. Behold the divine law,
or the perfect guide, for the thought and conduct of men hath not been
fully set forth by seers and philosophers, inscribed in creeds or voiced
by oracles, neither hath the Israelitish Decalogue, which was engraven
upon tables of stone, entirely contained it. But in man’s being, or real
nature, it is written in living characters,—letters of fire.”
“Then if one be wayward and disobedient, he offendeth not so much external
codes, as the laws and principles of his own constitution.”
“Thou couldst not have declared the truth more perfectly! There is a
divine image, or Son of God, in man. He may be known as the Anointed One,
or Christ, within. But commonly he remaineth unmanifested.”
“By Hercules!—pass over the custom,—that seemeth to be a hard saying.
Sayest thou that the ignorant, the base, and all men have this Anointed
One, the Son, hidden within the depths of their being?”
“Yea; it is the very corner‐stone of their nature, though they know it
not. They think and feel that all men—themselves included—are corrupt in
their being, because the troubled waves upon the surface of their every‐
day consciousness are evil and rebellious. Therefore they yield themselves
to the dominion of appearances, and become slaves to the seen, and to
those things which their own thoughts have created, and their own sensuous
faculties upreared.”
“O wise young Hebrew!—nay, more than Hebrew! thy philosophy, as thou
settest it forth, carrieth conviction, and seemeth worthy of confidence.
It satisfieth my questionings far more perfectly than anything I have
found in Greek or Roman lore. But I fain would know if any one among all
the sons of men hath fully brought the Son, the Anointed One—or Christ, as
thou hast called him—into real and perfect outward manifestation? Behold
is not this the great need in order that men may have their inmost quality
made visible? Thinkest thou that such an Inner made Outer will ever appear
among the children of men?”
“HE HATH APPEARED ALREADY!”
The intense interest which had made Marcius almost oblivious to their
rapid progress seemed to reach a climax. His strong, dark features lighted
up with an unwonted curiosity; but at that moment there was a commotion
around them, for they had arrived at the landing where they were to
disembark.
“Behold thy converse hath touched my very heart, and I pray thee that I
may hear further of this matter. Do thou and thy wife purpose to abide in
Tarsus?”
“Peradventure for a season, though we have set our faces towards Rome.”
“I bid you welcome to my palace. Mine is thine. Pray abide under my roof
during your sojourn.”
“Thou dost honor us with great kindness; but we are wonted to little pomp,
and thy hospitality seemeth too generous.”
“Thou dost deserve honor for thy great goodness and learning; but if thou
dost so desire, thy abiding‐place shall, withal, be humble, and thou shalt
be free from obligation.”
Serenus accepted the hearty invitation, and with Amabel prepared to leave
the Nereid and become guests of Marcius. Vivian also was warmly welcomed
to the special friendship of the Vice Legate, and was assured of the
pleasure which his visits to the palace would afford.
By the order of Marcius the rescued sailors of the Salapiæ were to be
abundantly ministered unto so long as their necessities remained.
Leander, while outwardly gracious to the new‐found friends of Marcius,
could hardly conceal his jealousy towards them; for their converse had
disquieted him, and his own society and games had been superseded.
The state carriage, or chariot, of Marcius, with three gayly caparisoned
horses of choice breed, harnessed abreast, was awaiting him when the
Nereid landed; and soon the Vice Legate, with his friends, including
Leander, were rolling rapidly over the well‐worn flags towards the palace.
The luxurious equipage, with the richly adorned charioteer and footmen,
the clatter of the hoofs of the noble steeds, and the musical jingle of
silver chain traces, drew the attention of every one in the streets while
they passed by. As they dashed rapidly through the business quarter, a
young woman, seemingly a Jewess, no longer in the early flush of youth,
but of remarkable beauty, was just emerging from one of the bazaars, where
she had been to make some trifling purchases.
It was Rebecca!
Casting an involuntary glance upwards, the face of Marcius—that face
forever carved upon the tablet of memory—was directly before her. A quick
shiver shot through her frame, but in the twinkling of an eye her glance
took in another face just behind. Barely suppressing the impulse to speak
aloud, she exclaimed to herself,—
“My friend of the Holy City! and with THAT ROMAN!”