_THE CHAMBER OF MAGIC._
[Illustration: Initial]
There are few sights more touching than that of a man struck speechless in
the course of disease, yet retaining his mental faculties. Death perhaps
approaches; weighty business presses on his mind; solemn secrets demand
revelation; confessions of soul struggle for utterance. He makes
inarticulate sounds, incomprehensible gestures. He writhes; he moans with
the burden of thoughts he cannot express. His eyes speak and plead with a
mute eloquence. His ideas play upon his countenance like lambent
lightning, but die away, voiceless, indefinite, unrevealed.
Such was the state of Ethopus, the dumb eunuch, the day after the
treacherous banquet. There was a great solitude about the house; for
Magistus, Caiaphas, and Simon Magus the magician, made an early and
prolonged visit to Jerusalem. Mary Magdalen took the sisters over the
beautiful and extensive grounds, and paid another visit to the tomb of our
mother, carrying some exquisite flowers in her own hand as a little
offering to the maternal shade. Ethopus flitted about here and there in a
state of unaccountable excitement. He followed the sisters all day at a
respectful distance; and when his duties called him off imperatively, he
went precipitately about everything until he could assure himself again
that they were free and out of danger.
“Ethopus has something extraordinary on his mind,” said Martha, to
herself; but she did not communicate her observation to her timorous and
sensitive sister.
The case was evidently this: Ethopus had discovered the plot of Magistus
against us all, and he felt certain that the arrival of the magician boded
no good. He was struggling between his disinterested affection for us and
his intense fear of his wicked masters. He felt his own weakness,
increased by his inability to speak; and he was laboring to devise some
plan by which the sisters could be brought to share his knowledge, and to
concert measures of escape from some impending catastrophe.
He seemed to divine that Martha was more thoughtful, courageous and
trustworthy than her sister. It was late in the afternoon when he made her
a signal, seen by herself alone, to follow him. She understood his
meaning, and contrived to withdraw without exciting the suspicion of her
companions. Ethopus conducted her to the chamber of Ulema. Scarcely giving
her time to exchange kisses with her aunt, he pushed her into a little
recess in the wall which was concealed by a hanging curtain. Between the
folds of this, Martha could peep cautiously into the room. In a few
moments Magistus entered.
He seemed hurried and flustered, and had a dark frown upon his brow.
“No message from Barabbas to-day. Something has gone wrong. Put this woman
to sleep immediately.”
Ethopus adjusted a large mirror of polished metal on a table. Ulema arose
from her couch without speaking a word, and seated herself in a chair
about four feet in front of the mirror and gazed steadfastly into it.
Magistus stood a little one side, and made rapid passes with his hands and
arms from her head to her feet, nearly touching her body. His black eyes
were fixed fiercely upon her face, and his heavy breathing could be heard
by Martha at every pass he made.
There was silence for several minutes, during which Ulema gazed
steadfastly into the mirror. Martha could not help doing the same; and she
gazed at the mirror until a strange, tingling, bewildered sensation began
to creep over her frame, and she averted her eyes to escape its magical
fascination.
The victim of this singular experiment now became rigid, and made a
convulsive sound as if in a severe spasm. Martha was terribly frightened;
but her aunt suddenly became relaxed with a profound sigh. Magistus took a
long needle and passed it through the skin of her hand. She did not
flinch. He then put something which seemed to be a lock of hair into her
palm, and closed the fingers tightly upon it.
“Follow this person,” said he, “wherever he is, and tell me what you see.”
The woman began, after a long pause:
“I am in a great wilderness of bare hills full of rocks and sand. The
sense of solitude is terrible. It is cloudy but windy—and the sun will
soon shine in the west.”
“But the youth?—the youth?” cried Magistus, impatiently.
“Wait a moment. The youth? I must find him. Bless me! how he has wandered!
how many circles! Ah! there he is! I see him stretched at full length upon
the ground.”
“That is good!” said Magistus eagerly; “that is good. He lies dead upon
the ground. Go on.”
“He is not dead,” said the oracle slowly; “his heart still beats: he
sleeps.”
“Not dead?” screeched the old man, “what say you, not dead? Is he not
wounded? Is he not stabbed? Is he not bleeding?” he continued in the
highest excitement.
“No!” said the woman calmly; “he is not dead, he sleeps.”
“Do you see no gashes upon his body?”
“No, I see only a bright new dagger.”
“Furies!” exclaimed Magistus; “he has escaped me. I have been deceived.”
Turning suddenly upon the woman, he seized her by the throat:
“Do you tell me the truth?”
“I tell you what I see. I fabricate nothing. I am now attracted around the
hill. Ah! I see a young man with the face of an angel coming forth from a
cave. He sings. Oh how sweetly he sings!”
“Angels and devils!” roared Magistus; “you have seen or reported falsely.”
With that he seemed overwhelmed by a paroxysm of rage, and began beating
the poor woman violently about the head and arms with a black rod he took
from the table. She made no resistance, and did not seem to feel the
blows. Ethopus raised his hands deprecatingly, and Martha was about to cry
out from her place of concealment, when a low, fierce growl, from
underneath the floor apparently, startled all of them but Ulema, who heard
it not.
Simon Magus was feeding his leopard.
“The Master has returned,” said my uncle, “I will consult him immediately.
He may deliver me from this difficulty.”
He left the room. Ethopus made rapid passes from her knees upward, and
Ulema awoke. She rubbed her hands and eyes, looked wonderingly around her
and exclaimed:
“I have had a long, painful sleep, and I must have seen sad things. Did I
give him satisfaction?”
Ethopus shook his head sadly.
“Alas!” said she, with a distressed and puzzled air, “when will this cruel
imprisonment cease, and this strange life of visions which I never
remember?”
Martha now came forward and threw herself weeping upon the neck of her
aunt. For a long time these sorrowful women exchanged those kisses and
tears which are consolations. They then unburdened their hearts to each
other. By questioning Ethopus and interpreting his pantomimic answers as
well as they could, they learned that some secret dangers surrounded them,
and that Ethopus wished Martha to spend the night in the chamber of her
aunt. Martha thought it best to rejoin Mary immediately, and explain to
her that Ulema was quite indisposed, and get her to sleep with Mary
Magdalen, and permit the older sister to comfort and nurse the invalid.
All of which was easily accomplished.
Ulema had been confined for years in that little room by her husband as
the subject and victim of his magical art. She was a clairvoyant of
extraordinary power; and when put asleep by the shining mirror and the
waving hands, she would follow any clue given her, and the greatest
physical obstacles seemed only penetrable shadows in the path of her
mysterious vision.
She was thus employed by her husband to advance the schemes of his
unscrupulous spirit. She was made to read the thoughts of others, so that
Magistus became possessed of any man’s or any woman’s secret life whenever
he chose. He obtained information in this manner which enabled him to make
lucrative transactions in business, to plot in the dark against whomsoever
he pleased, to destroy the peace of families, and to acquire a reputation
for superior and almost miraculous wisdom.
She had long ceased to be anything but a mere tool in her husband’s hands.
She was locked up and taken care of as any other valuable instrument would
have been. She was visited and inspected only when her services were
required. Love, sympathy, interchange of sentiments, all this had ceased.
She received nothing from him but contempt and threats. She lived within
hearing of his midnight revels. She bore the ravages of these things in
her pale and tearful face, with its sad and terrified expression.
Ethopus came softly into the room about midnight, and after many gestures
expressive of the supreme necessity of caution and silence, he conducted
the two women on tip-toe through a narrow passage. Near the end of this he
paused, and pressing on a secret spring, he discovered a sliding panel in
the wall. This opened and admitted them into a large, empty room. This
room was only for the ventilation of a more interior and secluded
apartment. A series of movable slats effected the communication between
the two chambers. The light streaming through the shutters showed that the
inner room was occupied. Looking down through the apertures, with very
little danger of being discovered, the women beheld, six or eight feet
before them, the floor of the secret chamber of magic.
Ethopus left them as stealthily as a cat, after placing them in the best
position to see and hear what was going on in the den of sorcery. He
pressed Martha’s hand to his heart before he departed. Perhaps he wished
to show how deeply he felt for them; perhaps also to intimate how deeply
he suffered. Perhaps he asked for help as well as sympathy. The poor, dumb
African would not only save them, if possible, from their subtle enemies,
but would enlist the knowledge and power of a superior race, to effect his
own deliverance from the crushing thraldom they had imposed upon him.
A thousand or two thousand years hence, magic as a science and an art will
have ceased to exist. Generations unborn will enjoy the leafage and fruit
of that sacred tree of Christianity, whose little seed we have seen
planted in the dark ground. The hells now opened will be closed; the
superstitions now triumphant will be a myth; the languages now living will
be dead; the arts now flourishing will have perished; the civilization now
dominant will be a historic shadow. Those who find this manuscript and
give it to the world, will not be able to comprehend the meaning, or to
believe the truth, of the strange things I am going to relate—and yet they
are true.
Magic, which pervades to a greater or less extent all nations, and in some
shape influences all individuals, had its origin in the corruption and
perversion of the sacred truths of religion. It is the life of all false
systems, the voice of their oracles, the inspiration of their prophets,
the power of their mighty men. It was the medium by which evil spirits
took possession of their victims. It is the falsity which antagonizes
truth; the darkness opposite to light; the hell arrayed against heaven. To
be under magical influence, is to be assaulted, betrayed, possessed,
governed, by demons.
Simon Magus, who believed himself attended by Moloch and Beelzebub, two
princes of hell, under the respective forms of a leopard and a serpent,
was the most remarkable sorcerer in the time of Christ. He was a Samaritan
by birth, but had spent his youth in Egypt, where he became addicted to
the black art, and thoroughly conversant with all its mysteries. He was
supposed by most men to be an Egyptian, and he took no pains to correct
the mistake.
He was a man of unquestionable genius and boundless ambition. He was of
majestic presence, bending weaker spirits easily to his will. He was brave
to desperation, and eloquent as if he had been fed in his youth by the
bees of Attica. He was the secret chief and leader of thousands of persons
addicted to magic in different countries. His word was regarded as law;
his power as irresistible; his wisdom as inscrutable.
Magicians generally resorted to remote caves and deserted ruins for their
rites and incantations. Many of the most splendid temples, however, of the
pagan religions, had private chambers devoted to their use. So also did
the palaces of many kings, and the princely mansions of wealthy and
powerful men. The magicians of Jerusalem and its neighborhood had a secret
council-room in the quiet house of Magistus, in which they held their
infernal conclave at every visit of the Master.
The two women peeped cautiously into this chamber of mystery. The floor
and the ceiling were both covered with black cloth, the latter having a
great many stars flaming upon it in imitation of night. Through them a
vast comet trailed its fiery form. The walls were painted with figures of
the most disgusting objects which creep on the earth, or fly in the air,
or swim in the sea. Some of these figures had the heads of men and women:
others had the heads of monsters attached to naked bodies in the human
shape.
On a raised platform of black marble, and in a great arm-chair covered
with crimson silk, sat Simon Magus, wearing a white robe of dazzling
lustre, a leopard skin loosely thrown over his shoulders, and a gilt crown
surmounted by an eagle with outspread wings. He wore also a massive gold
chain around his neck, from which was suspended a little sapphire image,
which was supposed to guide the Egyptian priest to the truth, as the
breast-plate of precious stones did the Jew.
The short black hair of Simon Magus curled close to his head, and he had
no beard after the fashion of his adopted country. His forehead was white
as pearl and both wide and lofty. His eyes were large and brilliant. His
whole face was illumined by the grand fires of intellect and passion. His
expression was too proud to be pleasing, too fierce to be beautiful. He
was a man to strengthen the heart of his friends, and to make his enemies
tremble.
A large black table was before him, brilliantly painted with the signs of
the zodiac. In the centre of it stood an image or idol made of black stone
or ebony, having the head of a man, the breast and fore-feet of a lion,
and the hind quarters of a goat. The serpent was coiled on the platform at
his right hand; the leopard crouched at his left. A splendid globe of
crystal hung from the ceiling constituting a lamp, burning perfumed oil
and shedding a rose-colored light over the scene.
In this mystic and formidable presence stood twelve or fifteen men with
bowed heads, down-hanging hands, and attitudes of the deepest humility.
The women recognized only the faces of Magistus and Caiaphas. The former
stood nearest to the table. Simon was addressing them in terms of
reproachful eloquence:
“You have made no progress in our sublime mysteries during the past year.
You have acquired no new powers over the spiritual world. You have not
even given me information of the least importance. Alas! you are devoid of
genuine ambition, without which whoever deals with spirits becomes a slave
and not a master.”
His voice became more sonorous and his eye more scornful as he warmed with
his subject:
“Your tastes, your character, your life, are low and vulgar and sensual.
You employ the powers of magic for paltry and contemptible ends. To obtain
reputation for cunning and foresight; to get good bargains out of your
neighbors; to cheat some widow out of her property; to find stolen or
buried treasure and appropriate it to yourselves; to pry into the secrets
of men’s bed-rooms and store-rooms and kitchens; to seduce silly maidens;
to create trouble between husbands and wives; to inflict all kinds of
petty and scurvy revenges upon your enemies,—that is all you do with our
venerable and awful art. The grander destiny which awaits us all by the
development and centralization of our powers, your vulgar passions do not
permit you to see or to appreciate.
“My example has been almost in vain. My spirit of self-sacrifice in
achieving my lofty ends, is a mystery to your sluggish and ignoble souls.
I have endured hunger and thirst and wakefulness and nakedness and heat
and cold and solitude and plagues and wounds for mastery in the great path
I have chosen. I have traversed the world from the frozen seas to the
chasms of torrid heat. I have contended with wild beasts and with their
guardians, the great spirits, by land and water. I have conquered the
serpent and the leopard. The vulture lights on my shoulder like a sparrow;
the lion crouches at my feet like a dog. Arch-demons come at my bidding,
and hundreds of lesser spirits swarm at the signal of my curse.”
He became violently excited; his eyeballs glared around in frenzy, and he
continued in a fierce whisper:
“It would freeze your cowardly souls only to hear the spells, the
incantations, the blasphemies I employed; the watchings, the tortures, the
combats, I endured, before I brought Moloch and Beelzebub into subjection
to my will. See there, how I have burned their names into my flesh with
pencils of iron heated to whiteness!”
He turned back the sleeves of his robe from his white arms, and held them
out. Upon one arm in great red letters was the word Moloch, on the other
the word Beelzebub.
“It was dreadful! dreadful!—but henceforth they are mine.”
The serpent writhed and protruded his tongue. The leopard showed his white
teeth, but dropped his yellow head between his paws.
“I have told you,” he continued, scornfully, “what constitutes your
ambition. Now I will tell you mine. To me belongs the glory of having
organized magic and associated magicians. I found them a horde of
wandering hunters; I shall make them an invisible phalanx of soldiers. I
have more than two thousand magicians, in seven different countries, who
obey me as one man. By concerted action we have obtained the secret
history, the hidden life of all the governors, consuls, warriors, kings
and great men throughout that vast region. I am maturing my plans to get
them all under my sovereign control. Other conquerors operate from
without, by sword and spear and catapult. I conquer from within, by hope
and fear and lust and passion and terror. Unseen, unsuspected, unknown,
with legions of invisible soldiers, I shall get possession of all their
treasures, all their palaces, all their thrones!
“Do you not see it?” he exclaimed, wildly, starting to his feet. “The
lever which truly moves the world lies always on the spiritual side of our
life. I advance from the right quarter to my designs. I shall subdue the
souls and bodies of men. I shall possess myself of all they possess. I
shall become emperor of Rome—yea, monarch of the world. Further still:—I
shall advance from realm to realm, from sphere to sphere in the spiritual
universe, marshaling around me my hosts of conquering spirits. I shall
pronounce the Unspeakable Name. My own name shall become Unspeakable!”
While the magician’s imagination soared away in this flight of boundless
ambition, his form dilated; a fierce red flush came over his face; his
eye, fired with a baleful brilliancy; and the maniac stood forth the very
impersonation of that Self-Love which is the moving and controlling genius
of hell.
His hearers trembled at his words and manner.
He sunk back into his chair and leaned his brow upon his hand. No one
disturbed his reverie. All were spellbound by the speaker’s enthusiasm.
After several minutes he raised his head and continued in a subdued tone:
“But, alas! my friends! this glorious dream is far from accomplishment. If
we had only to conquer the race of men, the difficulties would not be
insuperable. But our fiercest fight is on the spiritual side. All are
contending for the same prizes—power and glory. When we have beaten back
the shining ones whom they call angels, our combat begins with each other;
for each demands all for himself.
“Yet I despair not”—he added, after another pause and with a certain
sadness in his manner—“I despair not of realizing my inexpressible dream.
I have come into possession lately of an ancient and wonder-working
formula, whereby I hope to take many steps forward. Listen!
“I discovered by secret means only to be acquired in Egypt, that in a
certain wild spot of the Lybian desert one of the oldest and greatest
cities of the world was buried in the sand; a city so old that it has no
historical record; a people inconceivably wicked, in comparison with whom
the people of Sodom and Gomorrah were children sporting in the golden dawn
of innocence. This city and these people had been overwhelmed by the same
Power which buried the cities of the plain in the Salt Sea.
“I found this spot. By the aid of spiritual powers I burrowed my way into
their buried palaces and temples. I exhumed their remains. I made food and
drink of their ashes. The spirits who accompanied me fled away, and I was
left alone. I blended my being with that of the lost people. I became a
skeleton among skeletons, a shade among shades. I conquered. I drew voices
out of the silence, forms out of the darkness, life out of death. I
summoned with difficulty and danger the ruling spirits of the perished
race. I mastered their master. I made him my slave. I compelled him to
disgorge the secrets of the wilderness and the grave. I have enriched
myself with treasures of knowledge and power, of which no man even
dreams.”
Intense excitement pervaded his listeners—fear of the man and stupefaction
at his words.
“I will show you,” he continued—“by a strange art I have acquired, I will
show you this new demon who is also one of the oldest. I have summoned
this antediluvian monster to-night. He stands before me face to face, like
man to man. You cannot hear his voice nor see his shape; but you shall
feel his presence and mark his shadow on the wall.”
He now let down a large white curtain against the wall, to the top of
which it had been rolled like a great map. He resumed his seat and drew
forth a curious cup from a drawer in the table. It had words and figures
engraven upon it. He gazed intently into the cup, and pronounced some
words in an unknown tongue.
A moment of awful silence ensued, every one gazing steadfastly at the
curtain and hearing the beating of his own heart. Suddenly a strange,
benumbing, paralyzing sensation invaded the nerves of all present. It was
the approaching sphere of the antediluvian spirit.
“See!” said the magician hoarsely, “See! He comes!”
And sure enough! Like the shadow of a man which the moon makes when it is
going down, there crept a shadow up over the curtain; dim, wavering,
misshapen, which slowly settled into distincter form, and stood with
bended head and sweeping beard, with tottering knee and outstretched arms,
like a very old man of gigantic size begging alms.
All shuddered at the presence of this terrific spirit, more than Saul at
the rising of Samuel in the cave of the witch of Endor.
“From this most ancient arch-demon of our art,” continued Simon, pointing
to the shadow, “I have extorted a method of incantation which promises
more power and glory than all the combined rites and amulets in the world.
He will confirm what I say.”
The shadow slowly turned its old and hideous face toward the audience and
made an affirmative motion with its head. It then passed away from the
curtain like the shadow of a cloud creeping over a field of grain. All
breathed more freely.
“This formula will procure me a liquid of such potent magnetic virtue,
that a single drop of it put into a glass of wine will bind the woman who
drinks it, entirely and for ever, soul and body, to the man who
administers it. She will surrender friends, home, name, fame, everything
to his wishes.
“Miserable sensualists that you are,” he exclaimed, raising his voice and
confronting his cowering audience, “the use for which you would chiefly
value this inestimable secret has no attractions for me. My spirit looks
upward, not downward. I scorn pleasure. I love glory and power. Through
woman I shall conquer man. Woman herself shall be the agent of
transferring all that husbands, lovers, brothers, sons, friends possess,
to the great magician who shall be a god in her eyes.”
“Glorious ambition!” exclaimed Caiaphas.
“When I have achieved the conquest of the world,” said the earnest madman,
“I will resign the women to you, as a conqueror throws the treasures of a
sacked city to the soldiers who have won him a crown.”
“And the liquid?” inquired Magistus—“how is it to be obtained?”
“That brought me hither from my subterranean palace in Egypt, where I was
initiated into the sacred mysteries by Isis herself.”
All ears paid him the strictest attention.
“I must obtain the body of a young girl and convey it to the buried city
of the sands, where Ja-bol-he-moth, whom you saw just now, will assist me
in the magical rites. We must take her alive. I have made every
preparation. I have a vehicle specially constructed for concealment. That
will convey us to Joppa whence I have just come. From there to Alexandria
by a vessel which awaits me. Thence to the Lybian desert.”
“And the young woman?” asked Caiaphas.
“She must be pure as the snow nearest heaven: innocent as the babe tended
by angels: beautiful as Aurora when she treads the golden pavement with
her feet of pearl: loving as the heart of Spring when she gives her life
to the earth: holy as the spirit of prayer which breathed from the lyre of
King David.”
“And what would you do with this peerless maiden?” said some one in the
group.
“Are you acquainted with the processes and powers of magic, and do you ask
such a question? Do you know the virtues of the dust of a dove’s heart? of
the ashes of a viper’s tongue? of the pulverized bones of a babe’s head?
of the blood of a living man? Can you not imagine what subtile forces we
may extract from the essences of a virgin body?”
“Has your oracle directed you where to find this wonderful woman?” asked
Magistus.
“My presence here is a warrant that it has. That woman is a Jewess, of the
tribe of Benjamin, the youngest child, born at the death of her mother.”
These were the last words heard by either Ulema or Martha. These
affrighted women had been the silent witnesses and auditors of the
extraordinary scene I have described. With increasing amazement and terror
they found themselves unable to stand, and they sank softly upon the
floor. When the object of Simon’s visit to Bethany began to reveal itself,
they trembled with intense fear. When the horrible idea took distinct
shape in her mind, Martha had almost burst into a wild shriek of agony.
The shriek was with great difficulty suppressed. The terror and agony were
borne in upon the young soul, and she fell into a long and fearful swoon
which seemed death itself.
After a long, long time, when all was still and dark, Ethopus approached
as softly as he had departed. He aroused Ulema from her trance of grief,
and the two bore the unreviving form of Martha back to the chamber. She
was laid upon the bed; and as Ethopus passed out of the door, Ulema saw
him by the dim light of the stars lifting his face and hands earnestly to
heaven.
[Illustration: Ornament]
[Illustration: Ornament]