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Ardath

<h2 id="id02161" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> <h5 id="id02162">A MISSING RECORD.</h5> He spoke the last words with deep feeling and earnestness, and Alwyn, meeting his clear, grave, brilliant eyes, was more than ever impressed by the singular dignity and overpowering magnetism of his presence. Remembering how insufficiently he had realized this man's true worth, when he had first sought him out in his monastic retreat, he was struck by a sudden sense of remorse, and leaning across the table, gently touched his hand. "How greatly I wronged you once, Heliobas!" he said penitently, with a tremor of appeal in his voice—"Forgive me, will you?—though I shall never forgive myself!" Heliobas smiled, and cordially pressed the extended hand in his own. "Nay, there is nothing to forgive, my friend," he answered cheerfully—"and nothing to regret. Your doubts of me were very natural,—indeed, viewed by the world's standard of opinion, much more natural than your present faith, for faith is always a SUPER-natural instinct. Would you be practically sensible according to modern social theories?—then learn to suspect everybody and everything, even your best friend's good intentions!" He laughed, and the luncheon being concluded, he rose from the table, and taking an easy-chair nearer the window, motioned Alwyn to do the same. "I want to talk to you"—he continued, "We may not meet again for years,—you are entering on a difficult career, and a few hints from one who knows and thoroughly understands your position may possibly be of use to you. In the first place, then, let me ask you, have you told any one, save me, the story of your Ardath adventure?" "One friend only,—my old school comrade, Frank Villiers"—replied Alwyn. "And what does he say about it?" "Oh, he thinks it was a dream from beginning to end,"—and Alwyn smiled a little,—"He believes that I set out on my journey with my brain already heated to an imaginative excess, and that the whole thing, even my Angel's presence, was a pure delusion of my own overwrought fancy,—a curious and wonderful delusion, but always a delusion." "He is a very excellent fellow to judge you so leniently"—observed Heliobas composedly, "Most people would call you mad." "Mad!" exclaimed Alwyn hotly—"Why, I am as sane as any man in London!" "Saner, I should say,"—replied Heliobas, smiling,—"Compared with some of the eminently 'practical' speculating maniacs that howl and struggle among the fluctuating currents of the Stock Exchange, for instance, you are indeed a marvel of sound and wholesome mental capability! But let us view the matter coolly. You must not expect such an exceptional experience as yours to be believed in by ordinary persons. Because the majority of people, being utterly UNspiritual and worldly, have NO such experiences, and they therefore deem them impossible;—they are the gold-fish born in a bowl, who have no consciousness of the existence of an ocean. Moreover, you have no proofs of the truth of your narrative, beyond the change in your own life and disposition,—and that can be easily referred to various other causes. You spoke of having gathered one of the miracle-flowers on the Prophet's field,—may I see it?" Silently Alwyn drew from his breast-pocket the velvet case in which he always kept the cherished blossom, and taking it tenderly out, placed it in his companion's hand. "An immortelle"—said Heliobas softly, while the flower, uncurling its silvery petals in the warmth of his palm, opened star-like and white as snow. "An immortelle, rare and possibly unique!—that is all the world would say of it! It cannot be matched,—it will not fade,—true! but you will get no one to believe that! Frown not, good Poet!—I want you to consider me for the moment a practical worldling, bent on driving you from the spiritual position yon have taken up,—and you will see how necessary it is for you to keep the secret of your own enlightenment to yourself, or at least only hint at it through the parables of poesy." He gave back the Ardath blossom to its owner with reverent care,—and when Alwyn had as reverently put it by, he resumed: "Your friend Villiers has offered you a perfectly logical and common-sense solution of the mystery of Ardath,—one which, if you chose to accept it, would drive you back into skepticism as easily as a strong wind blows a straw. Only see how simple the intricate problem is unravelled by this means! You, a man of ardent and imaginative temperament, made more or less unhappy by the doctrines of materialism, come to me, Heliobas, a Chaldean student of the Higher Philosophies, an individual whose supposed mysterious power and inexplicably studious way of life entitle him to be considered by the world at large an IMPOSTER!—Now don't look so indignant!"—and he laughed,—"I am merely discussing the question from the point of view that would be sure to be adopted by 'wise' modern society! Thus—I, Heliobas, the impostor, take advantage of your state of mind to throw you into a trance, in which, by occult means, you see the vision of an Angel, who bids you meet her at a place called Ardath,—and you, also, in your hypnotized condition, write a poem which you entitle 'Nourhalma.' Then I,—always playing my own little underhand game!—read you portions of 'Esdras,' and prove to you that 'Ardath' exists, while I delicately SUGGEST, if I do not absolutely COMMAND, your going thither. You go,—but I, still by magnetic power, retain my influence over you. You visit Elzear, a hermit, whom we will, for the sake of the present argument, call my accomplice,—he reads between the lines of the letter you deliver to him from me, and he understands its secret import. He continues, no matter how, your delusion. You broke your fast with him,—and surely it was easy for him to place some potent drug in the wine he gave you, which made you DREAM the rest;—nay, viewed from this standpoint, it is open to question whether you ever went to the Field of Ardath at all, but merely DREAMED you did! You see how admirably I can, with little trouble, disprove the whole story, and make myself out to be the veriest charlatan and trickster that ever duped his credulous fellow-man! How do you like my practical dissection of your new-found joys?" Alwyn was gazing at him with puzzled and anxious eyes. "I do not like it at all"—he murmured, in a pained tone—"It is an insidious SEMBLANCE of truth;—but I know it is not the Truth itself!" "Why, how obstinate you are!" said Heliobas, good-humoredly, with a quick, flashing glance at him. "You insist on seeing things in a directly reverse way to that in which the world sees them! How can you be so foolish! To the world your Ardath adventure is the SEMBLANCE of truth,—and only man's opinion thereon is worth trusting as the Truth itself!" Over the wistful, brooding thoughtfulness of Alwyn's countenance swept a sudden light of magnificent resolution. "Heliobas, do not jest with me!" he cried passionately—"I know, better perhaps than most men, how divine things can be argued away by the jargon of tongues, till heart and brain grow weary,—I know, God help me!—how the noblest ideals of the soul can be swept down and dispersed into blank ruin, by the specious arguments of cold-blooded casuists,—but I also know, by a supreme INNER knowledge beyond all human proving, that GOD EXISTS, and with His Being exist likewise all splendors, great and small, spiritual and material,—splendors vaster than our intelligence can reach,—ideals loftier than imagination can depict! I want no proof of this save those that burn in my own individual consciousness,—I do not need a miserable taper of human reason to help me to discern the Sun! I, OF MY OWN CHOICE, PRAYER, AND HOPE, voluntarily believe in God, in Christ, in angels, in all things beautiful and pure and grand!—let the world and its ephemeral opinions wither, I will NOT be shaken down from the first step of the ladder whereon one climbs to Heaven!" His features were radiant with fervor and feeling,—his eyes brilliant with the kindling inward light of noblest aspiration,—and Heliobas, who had watched him intently, now bent toward him with a grave gesture of the gentlest homage. "How strong is he whom an Angel's love makes glorious!" he said—"We are partners in the same destiny, my friend,—and I have but spoken to you as the world might speak, to prepare you for opposition. The specious arguments of men confront us at every turn, in every book, in every society,—and it is not always that we are ready to meet them. As a rule, silence on all matters of personal faith is best,—let your life bear witness for you;—it shall thunder loud oracles when your mortal limbs are dumb." He paused a moment—then went on: "You have desired to know the secret of the active and often miraculous power of the special form of religion I and my brethren follow; well, it is all contained in Christ, and Christ only. His is the only true Spiritualism in the world—there was never any before He came. We obey Christ in the simple rules he preached,—Christ according to His own enunciated wish and will. Moreover, we,—that is, our Fraternity,—received our commission from Christ Himself in person." Alwyn started,—his eyes dilated with amazement and awe. "From Christ Himself in person?"—he echoed incredulously. "Even so"—returned Heliobas calmly. "What do you suppose our Divine Master was about during the years between His appearance among the Rabbis of the Temple and the commencement of His public preaching? Do you, can you, imagine with the rest of the purblind world, that he would have left His marvellous Gospel in the charge of a few fishermen and common folk ONLY." "I never thought,—I never inquired—" began Alwyn hurriedly. "No!"—and Heliobas smiled rather sadly, "Few men do think or inquire very far on sacred subjects! Listen,—for what I have to say to you will but strengthen you in your faith,—and you will need more than all the strength of the Four Evangelists to bear you stiffly up against the suicidal Negation of this present disastrous epoch. Ages ago,—ay, more than six or seven thousand years ago, there were certain communities of men in the East,—scholars, sages, poets, astronomers, and scientists, who, desiring to give themselves up entirely to study and research, withdrew from the world, and formed themselves into Fraternities, dividing whatever goods they had in common, and living together under one roof as the brotherhoods of the Catholic Church do to this day. The primal object of these men's investigations was a search after the Divine Cause of Creation; and as it was undertaken with prayer, penance, humility, and reverence, much enlightenment was vouchsafed to them, and secrets of science, both spiritual and material, were discovered by them,—secrets which the wisest of modern sages know nothing of as yet. Out of these Fraternities came many of the prophets and preachers of the Old Testament,—Esdras for one,—Isaiah for another. They were the chroniclers of many now forgotten events,—they kept the history of the times, as far is it was possible,—and in their ancient records your city of Al-Kyris is mentioned as a great and populous place, which was suddenly destroyed by the bursting out of a volcano beneath its foundations—Yes!"—this as Alwyn uttered an eager exclamation,—"Your vision was a perfectly faithful reflection of the manner in which it perished. I must tell you, however, that nothing concerning its kings or great men has been preserved,—only a few allusions to one Hyspiros, a writer of tragedies, whose genius seems to have corresponded to that of our Shakespeare of to-day. The name of Sah-luma is nowhere extant." A burning wave of color flushed Alwyn's face, but he was silent. Heliobas went on gently: "At a very early period of their formation, these Fraternities I tell you of were in possession of most of the MATERIAL scientific facts of the present day,—such things as the electric wire and battery, the phonograph, the telephone, and other 'new' discoveries, being perfectly familiar to them. The SPIRITUAL manifestations of Nature were more intricate and difficult to penetrate,—and though they knew that material effects could only be produced by spiritual causes, they worked in the dark, as it were, only groping toward the light. However, the wisdom and purity of the lives they led was not without its effect,—emperors and kings sought their advice, and gave them great stores of wealth, which they divided, according to rule, into equal portions, and used for the benefit of those in need, willing the remainder to their successors; so that, at the present time, the few brotherhoods that are left hold immense treasures accumulated through many centuries,—treasures which are theirs to share with one another in prosecution of discoveries and the carrying on of good works in secret. Ages before the coming of Christ, one Aselzion, a man of austere and strict life, belonging to a Fraternity stationed in Syria, was engaged in working out a calculation of the average quantity of heat and light provided per minute by the sun's rays, when, glancing upward at the sky, the hour being clear noonday, he beheld a Cross of crimson hue suspended in the sky, whereon hung the cloudy semblance of a human figure. Believing himself to be the victim of some optical delusion, he hastened to fetch some of his brethren, who at a glance perceived the self-same marvel,—which presently was viewed with reverent wonder by the whole assembled community. For one entire hour the Symbol stayed—then vanished suddenly, a noise like thunder accompanying its departure. Within a few months of its appearance, messages came from all the other Fraternities stationed in Egypt, in Spain, in Greece, in Etruria, stating that they also had seen this singular sight, and suggesting that from henceforth the Cross should be adopted by the united Brotherhoods as a holy sign of some Deity unrevealed,—a proposition that was at once agreed to. This happened some five thousand years before Christ,—and hence the Sign of the Cross became known in all, or nearly all, the ancient rites of worship, the multitude considering that because it was the emblem of the Philosophical Fraternities, it must have some sacred meaning. So it was used in the service of Serapis and the adoration of the Nile-god,—it has been found carved on Egyptian disks and obelisks, and it was included among the numerous symbols of Saturn." He paused. Alwyn was listening with eager, almost breathless, attention. "After this"—went on Heliobas—"came a long period of prefigurements; types and suggestions, that, running through all the various religions that sprang up swiftly and as swiftly decayed, hinted vaguely at the birth of a child,—offspring of a pure Virgin—a miraculously generated God-in-Man—an absolutely Sinless One, who should be sent to remind Humanity of its intended final high destiny, and who should, by precept and example, draw the Earth nearer to Heaven. I would here ask you to note what most people seem to forget,—namely, that since Christ came, all these shadowy types and prefigurements have CEASED; a notable fact, even to skeptical minds. The world waited dimly for something, it knew not what,—the various Fraternities of the Cross waited also, feeling conscious that some great era of hope and happiness was about to dawn for all men. When the Star in the East arose announcing the Redeemer's birth, there were some forty or fifty of these Fraternities existing, three in the ancient province of Chaldea, from whence a company of the wisest seers and sages were sent to acknowledge by their immediate homage the Divinity born in Bethlehem. These were the 'wise men out of the East' mentioned in the Gospel. We knew—I say WE, because I am descended directly from one of these men, and have always belonged to their Brotherhood—we knew it was DIVINITY that had come amongst us,—and in our parchment chronicles there is a long account of how the deserts of Arabia rang with music that holy night—what wealth of flowers sprang up in places that had hither to lain waste and dry—how the sky blazed with rings of roseate radiance,—how fair and wondrous shapes were seen flitting across the heavens,—the road of communication between men and Angels being opened at a touch by the Saviour's advent." Again he paused,—and after a little silence resumed: "Then we added the Star to our existing Symbol, the Cross, and became the Brotherhood of the Cross and Star. As such, after the Redeemer's birth, we put all other matters from us, and set ourselves to chronicle His life and actions, to pray and wait, unknowing what might be the course of His work or will. One Day He came to us,—ah! happy those whom He found watching, and whose privilege it was to receive their Divine Guest!" His voice had a passionate thrill within it, as of tears,—and Alwyn's heart beat fast,—what a wonderful new chapter was here revealed of the old, old story of the Only Perfect Life on earth! "One of the Fraternities," went on Heliobas, "had its habitation in the wilderness where, some years later, the Master wandered fasting forty days and forty nights. To that solitary abode of prayerful men He came, when He was about twenty-three earthly years of age; the record of His visit has been reverently penned and preserved, and from it we know how fair and strong He was,—how stately and like a King—how gracious and noble in bearing—how far exceeding in beauty all the sons of men! His speech was music that thrilled to the heart,—the wondrous glory of His eyes gave life to those who knelt and worshipped Him—His touch was pardon—His smile was peace! From His own lips a store of wisdom was set down,—and prophecies concerning the fate of His own teaching, which then He uttered, are only now, at this very day, being fulfilled. Therefore we know the time has come—" he broke off, and sighed deeply. "The time has come for what?" demanded Alwyn eagerly. "For certain secrets to be made known to the world which till now have been kept sacred," returned Heliobas,—"You must understand that the chief vow of the Fraternity of the Cross and Star is SECRECY,—a promise never to divulge the mysteries of God and Nature to those who are unfitted to receive such high instruction. It is Christ's own saying—'A faithless and perverse generation asketh for a sign, and no sign shall be given.' You surely are aware how, even in the simplest discoveries of material science, the world's attitude is at first one of jeering incredulity,—how much more so, then, in things which pertain solely to the spiritual side of existence! But God will not be mocked,—and it behooves us to think long, and pray much, before we unveil even one of the lesser mysteries to the eyes of the vulgar. Christ knew the immutable condition of Free-Will,—He knew that faith, humility, and obedience are the hardest of all hard virtues to the self-sufficient arrogance of man; and we learned from Him that His Gospel, simple though it is, would be denied, disputed, quarrelled over, shamefully distorted, and almost lost sight of in a multitude of 'free' opinions,—that His life-giving Truth would be obscured and rendered incomprehensible by the WILFUL obstinacy of human arguments concerning it. Christ has no part whatever in the distinctly human atrocities that have been perpetrated under cover of His Name,—such as the Inquisition, the Wars of the Crusades, the slaughter of martyrs, and the degrading bitterness of SECTS; in all these things Christ's teaching is entirely set aside and lost. He knew how the proud of this world would misread His words—that is why He came to men who for thousands of years in succession had steadily practised the qualities He most desired,—namely, faith, humility, and obedience,—and finding them ready to carry out His will, He left with them the mystic secrets of His doctrine, which He forbade them to give to the multitude till men's quarrels and disputations had called His very existence into doubt. Then,—through pure channels and by slow degrees—we were to proclaim to the world His last message." Alwyn's eyes rested on the speaker in reverent yet anxious inquiry. "Surely"—he said—"you will begin to proclaim it now?" "Yes, we shall begin," answered Heliobas, his brow darkening as with a cloud of troubled thought—"But we are in a certain difficulty,—for we may not speak in public ourselves, nor write for publication,—our ancient vow binds us to this, and may not be broken. Moreover, the Master gave us a strange command,—namely, that when the hour came for the gradual declaration of the Secret of His Doctrine, we should intrust it, in the first place, to the hands of one who should be young,—IN the world, yet not OF it,—simple as a child, yet wise with the wisdom of faith,—of little or no estimation among men,—and who should have the distinctive quality of loving NOTHING in earth or Heaven more dearly than His Name and Honor. For this unique being we have searched, and are searching still,—we can find many who are young and both wise and innocent, but, alas! one who loves the unseen Christ actually more than all things,—this is indeed a perplexity! I have fancied of late that I have discovered in my own circle,—that is, among those who have been DRAWN to study God and Nature according to my views,—one who makes swift and steady progress in the higher sciences, and who, so far as I have been able to trace, really loves our Master with singular adoration above all joys on earth and hopes of Heaven; but I cannot be sure—and there are many tests and trials to be gone through before we dare bid this little human lamp of love shine forth upon the raging storm." He was silent a moment,—then went on in a low tone, as though speaking to himself: "WHEN THE MECHANISM OF THIS UNIVERSE IS EXPLAINED IN SUCH WISE THAT NO DISCOVERY OF SCIENCE CAN EVER DISPROVE, BUT MUST RATHER SUPPORT IT, . . WHEN THE ESSENCE OF THE IMMORTAL SOUL IN MAN IS DESCRIBED IN CLEAR AND CONCISE LANGUAGE,—AND WHEN THE MARVELLOUS ACTION OF SPIRIT ON MATTER IS SHOWN TO BE ACTUALLY EXISTENT AND NEVER IDLE,—then, if the world still doubts and denies God, it will only have itself to blame!—But to you"—and he resumed his ordinary tone—"all things, through your Angel's love, are made more or less plain,—and I have told you the history of our Fraternity merely that you may understand how it is we know so much that the outer world is ignorant of. There are very few of us left nowadays,—only a dozen Brotherhoods scattered far apart on different portions of the earth,—but, such as we are, we are all UNITED, and have never, through these eighteen hundred years, had a shade of difference in opinion concerning the Divinity of Christ. Through Him we have learned TRUE Spiritualism, and all the miraculous power which is the result of it; and as there is a great deal of FALSE spiritualism rampant just now, I may as well give you a few hints whereby you may distinguish it at once,—Imprimis: if a so-called Spiritualist tells you that he can summon spirits who will remove tables and chairs, write letters, play the piano, and rap on the walls, he is a CHARLATAN. FOR SPIRITS CAN TOUCH NOTHING CORPOREAL UNLESS THEY TAKE CORPOREAL SHAPE FOR THE MOMENT, as in the case of your angelic Edris. But in this condition, they are only seen by the one person whom they visit,—never by several persons at once—remember that! Nor can they keep their corporeal state long,—except, by their express wish and will, they should seek to enter absolutely into the life of humanity, which, I must tell you, HAS BEEN DONE, but so seldom, that in all the history of Christian Spirituality there are only about four examples. Here are six tests for all the 'spiritualists' you may chance to meet: "First. Do they serve themselves more than others? If so, they are entirely lacking in spiritual attributes. "Secondly. Will they take money for their professed knowledge? If so, they condemn themselves as paid tricksters. "Thirdly. Are they men and women of commonplace and thoroughly material life? Then, it is plain they cannot influence others to strive for a higher existence. "Fourthly. Do they love notoriety? If they do, the gates of the unseen world are shut upon them. "Fifthly. Do they disagree among themselves, and speak against one another? If so, they contradict by their own behavior all the laws of spiritual force and harmony. "Sixthly and lastly.—Do they reject Christ! If they do, they know nothing whatever about Spiritualism, there being NONE without Him. Again, when you observe professing psychists living in any eccentric way, so as to cause their trifling every-day actions to be remarked and commented upon, you may be sure the real power is not in them,—as, for instance, people who become vegetarians because they imagine that by so doing they will see spirits—people who adopt a singular mode of dress in order to appear different from their fellow-creatures—people who are lachrymose, dissatisfied, or in any way morbid. Never forget that TRUE Spiritualism engenders HEALTH OF BODY AND MIND, serenity and brightness of aspect, cheerfulness and perfect contentment,—and that its influence on those who are brought within its radius is distinctly MARKED and BENEFICIAL. The chief characteristic of a true, that is, CHRISTIAN, spiritualist is, that he or she CANNOT be shaken from faith, or thrown into despair by any earthly misfortune whatsoever. And while on this subject, I will show you where the existing forms of Christianity depart from the teachings of Christ: first, in LACK OF SELF ABNEGATION,—secondly, in LACK OF UNITY,—thirdly, in failing to prove to the multitude that Death is is not DESTRUCTION, but simply CHANGE. Nothing really DIES; and the priests should make use of Science to illustrate this fact to the people. Each of these virtues has its Miracle Effect: Unity is strength; Self abnegation attracts the Divine Influences, and Death, viewed as a glorious transformation, which it IS, inspires the soul with a sense of larger life. Sects are UNChristian,—there should be only ONE vast, UNITED Church for all the Christian world—a Church, whose pure doctrines should include all the hints received from Nature and the scientific working of the Universe,—the marvels of the stars and the planetary systems,—the wonders of plants and minerals,—the magic of light and color and music; and the TRUE MIRACLES of Spirit and Matter should be inquired into reverently, prayerfully, and always with the deepest HUMILITY;—while the first act of worship performed every holy Morn and Eve should be Gratitude! Gratitude—gratitude! Ay, even for a sorrow we should be thankful,—it may conceal a blessing we wot not of! For sight, for sense, for touch, for the natural beauty of this present world,—for the smile on a face we love—for the dignity and responsibility of our lives, and the immortality with which we are endowed,—Oh my friend! would that every breath we drew could in some way express to the All Loving Creator our adoring recognition of His countless benefits!" Carried away by his inward fervor, his eyes flashed with extraordinary brilliancy,—his countenance was grand, inspired, and beautiful, and Alwyn gazed at him in wondering, fascinated silence. Here was a man who had indeed made the best of his manhood!—what a life was his! how satisfying and serene! Master of himself, he was, as it were, master of the world,—all Nature ministered to him, and the pageant of passing history was as a mere brilliant picture painted for his instruction,—a picture on which he, looking, learned all that it was needful for him to know. And concerning this mystic Brotherhood of the Cross and Star, what treasures of wisdom they must have secreted in their chronicles through so many thousands of years! What a privilege it would be to explore such world-forgotten tracks of time! Yielding to a sudden impulse, Alwyn spoke his thought aloud: "Heliobas," he said, "tell me, could not I, too, become a member of your Fraternity?" Heliobas smiled kindly. "You could, assuredly"—he replied—"if you chose to submit to fifteen years' severe trial and study. But I think a different sphere of duty is designed for you. Wait and see! The rules of our Order forbid the disclosure of knowledge attained, save through the medium of others not connected with us; and we may not write out our discoveries for open publication. Such a vow would be the death-blow to your poetical labors,—and the command your Angel gave you points distinctly to a life lived IN the world of men,—not out of it." "But you yourself are in the world of men at this moment"—argued Alwyn—"And you are free; did you not tell me you were bound for Mexico?" "Does going to Mexico constitute liberty?" laughed Heliobas. "I assure you I am closely constrained by my vows wherever I am,—as closely as though I were shut in our turret among the heights of Caucasus! I am going to Mexico solely to receive some manuscripts from one of our brethren, who is dying there. He has lived as a recluse, like Elzear of Melyana, and to him have been confided certain important chronicles, which must be taken into trustworthy hands for preservation. Such is the object of my journey. But now, tell me, have you thoroughly understood all I have said to you?" "Perfectly!" rejoined Alwyn. "My way seems very clear before me,—a happy way enough, too, if it were not quite so lonely!" And he sighed a little. Heliobas rose and laid one hand kindly on his shoulder. "Courage!"…he said softly. "Bear with the loneliness a while, IT MAY NOT LAST LONG!" A slight thrill ran through Alwyn's nerves,—he felt as though he were on the giddy verge of some great and unexpected joy,—his heart beat quickly and his eyes grew dim. Mastering the strange emotion with an effort, he was reluctantly beginning to think it was time to take his leave, when Heliobas, who had been watching him intently, spoke in a cheerful, friendly tone: "Now that we have had our serious talk out, Mr. Alwyn, suppose you come with me and hear the Ange-Demon of music at St. James's Hall? Will you? He can bestow upon you a perfect benediction of sweet sound,—a benediction not to be despised in this workaday world of clamor,—and out of all the exquisite symbols of Heaven offered to us on earth, Music, I think, is the grandest and best." "I will go with you wherever you please," replied Alwyn, glad of any excuse that gave him more of the attractive Chaldean's company,—"But what Ange-Demon are you speaking of?" "Sarasate,—or 'Sarah Sayty,' as some of the clear Britishers call him—" laughed Heliobas, putting on his overcoat as he spoke; "the 'Spanish fiddler,' as the crabbed musical critics define him when they want to be contemptuous, which they do pretty often. These, together with the literary 'oracles,' have their special cliques,—their little chalked out circles, in which they, like tranced geese, stand cackling, unable to move beyond the marked narrow limit. As there are fools to be found who have the ignorance, as well as the effrontery, to declare that the obfuscated, ill-expressed, and ephemeral productions of Browning are equal, if not superior, to the clear, majestic, matchless, and immortal utterances of Shakespeare,—ye gods! the force of asinine braying can no further go than this! … even so there are similar fools who say that the cold, correct, student-like playing of Joachim is superior to that of Sarasate. But come and judge for yourself,—if you have never heard him, it will be a sort of musical revelation to you,—he is not so much a violinist, as a human violin played by some invisible sprite of song. London listens to him, but doesn't know quite what to make of him,—he is a riddle that only poets can read. If we start now, we shall be just in time,—I have two stalls. Shall we go?" Alwyn needed no second invitation,—he was passionately fond of music,—his interest was aroused, his curiosity excited,—moreover, whatever the fine taste of Heliobas pronounced as good must, he felt sure, be super-excellent. In a few minutes they had left the hotel together, and were walking briskly toward Piccadilly, their singularly handsome faces and stately figures causing many a passer-by to glance after them admiringly, and murmur sotto voce, "Splendid-looking fellows! … not English!" For though Englishmen are second to none in mere muscular strength and symmetry of form, it is a fact worth noting, that if any one possessing poetic distinction of look, or picturesque and animated grace of bearing, be seen suddenly among the more or less monotonously uniform crowd in the streets of London, he or she is pretty sure to be set down, rightly or wrongly, as "NOT English." Is not this rather a pity?—for England! <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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