Produced by Anthony Matonak
WHEN THE WORLD SHOOK
Being an Account of the Great Adventure of Bastin, Bickley and Arbuthnot
by H. Rider Haggard
DEDICATION
Ditchingham, 1918.
MY DEAR CURZON,
More than thirty years ago you tried to protect me, then a stranger toyou, from one of the falsest and most malignant accusations ever madeagainst a writer.
So complete was your exposure of the methods of those at work to blackena person whom they knew to be innocent, that, as you will remember,they refused to publish your analysis which destroyed their charges and,incidentally, revealed their motives.
Although for this reason vindication came otherwise, your kindness isone that I have never forgotten, since, whatever the immediate issue ofany effort, in the end it is the intention that avails.
Therefore in gratitude and memory I ask you to accept this romance, asI know that you do not disdain the study of romance in the intervals ofyour Imperial work.
The application of its parable to our state and possibilities--beneathor beyond these glimpses of the moon--I leave to your discernment.
Believe me,
Ever sincerely yours,
H. RIDER HAGGARD.
To The Earl Curzon of Kedleston, K.G.
CONTENTS
1. ARBUTHNOT DESCRIBES HIMSELF
2. BASTIN AND BICKLEY
3. NATALIE
4. DEATH AND DEPARTURE
5. THE CYCLONE
6. LAND
7. THE OROFENANS
8. BASTIN ATTEMPTS THE MARTYR'S CROWN
9. THE ISLAND IN THE LAKE
10. THE DWELLERS IN THE TOMB
11. RESURRECTION
12. TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND YEARS!
13. ORO SPEAKS AND BASTIN ARGUES
14. THE UNDER-WORLD
15. ORO IN HIS HOUSE
16. VISIONS OF THE PAST
17. YVA EXPLAINS
18. THE ACCIDENT
19. THE PROPOSALS OF BASTIN AND BICKLEY
20. ORO AND ARBUTHNOT TRAVEL BY NIGHT
21. LOVE'S ETERNAL ALTAR
22. THE COMMAND
23. IN THE TEMPLE OF FATE
24. THE CHARIOT OF THE PIT
25. SACRIFICE
26. TOMMY
27. BASTIN DISCOVERS A RESEMBLANCE
28. NOTE BY J. R. BICKLEY, M.R.C.S.
WHEN THE WORLD SHOOK
Chapter I. Arbuthnot Describes Himself
I suppose that I, Humphrey Arbuthnot, should begin this history inwhich Destiny has caused me to play so prominent a part, with some shortaccount of myself and of my circumstances.
I was born forty years ago in this very Devonshire village in which Iwrite, but not in the same house. Now I live in the Priory, an ancientplace and a fine one in its way, with its panelled rooms, its beautifulgardens where, in this mild climate, in addition to our own, flourishso many plants which one would only expect to find in countries thatlie nearer to the sun, and its green, undulating park studded with greattimber trees. The view, too, is perfect; behind and around the richDevonshire landscape with its hills and valleys and its scarped facesof red sandstone, and at a distance in front, the sea. There are littletowns quite near too, that live for the most part on visitors, but theseare so hidden away by the contours of the ground that from the Prioryone cannot see them. Such is Fulcombe where I live, though for obviousreasons I do not give it its real name.
Many years ago my father, the Rev. Humphrey Arbuthnot, whose only childI am, after whom also I am named Humphrey, was the vicar of this placewith which our family is said to have some rather vague hereditaryconnection. If so, it was severed in the Carolian times because myancestors fought on the side of Parliament.
My father was a recluse, and a widower, for my mother, a Scotswoman,died at or shortly after my birth. Being very High Church for thosedays he was not popular with the family that owned the Priory before me.Indeed its head, a somewhat vulgar person of the name of Enfield who hadmade money in trade, almost persecuted him, as he was in a position todo, being the local magnate and the owner of the rectorial tithes.
I mention this fact because owing to it as a boy I made up my mind thatone day I would buy that place and sit in his seat, a wild enough ideaat the time. Yet it became engrained in me, as do such aspirations ofour youth, and when the opportunity arose in after years I carriedit out. Poor old Enfield! He fell on evil fortunes, for in trying tobolster up a favourite son who was a gambler, a spendthrift, and anungrateful scamp, in the end he was practically ruined and when thebad times came, was forced to sell the Fulcombe estate. I think of himkindly now, for after all he was good to me and gave me many a day'sshooting and leave to fish for trout in the river.
By the poor people, however, of all the district round, for the parishitself is very small, my father was much beloved, although he didpractise confession, wear vestments and set lighted candles on thealtar, and was even said to have openly expressed the wish, to whichhowever he never attained, that he could see a censer swinging in thechancel. Indeed the church which, as monks built it, is very large andfine, was always full on Sundays, though many of the worshippers camefrom far away, some of them doubtless out of curiosity because of itspapistical repute, also because, in a learned fashion, my father'spreaching was very good indeed.
For my part I feel that I owe much to these High-Church views. Theyopened certain doors to me and taught me something of the mysterieswhich lie at the back of all religions and therefore have their homein the inspired soul of man whence religions are born. Only the pityis that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred he never discovers, nevereven guesses at that entombed aspiration, never sinks a shaft down on tothis secret but most precious vein of ore.
I have said that my father was learned; but this is a mild description,for never did I know anyone quite so learned. He was one of thosemen who is so good all round that he became pre-eminent in nothing. Aclassic of the first water, a very respectable mathematician, an expertin theology, a student of sundry foreign languages and literature inhis lighter moments, an inquirer into sociology, a theoretical musicianthough his playing of the organ excruciated most people because it wastoo correct, a really first-class authority upon flint instruments andthe best grower of garden vegetables in the county, also of apples--suchwere some of his attainments. That was what made his sermons so popular,since at times one or the other of these subjects would break out intothem, his theory being that God spoke to us through all of these things.
But if I began to drift into an analysis of my father's abilities, Ishould never stop. It would take a book to describe them. And yet markthis, with them all his name is as dead to the world to-day as though hehad never been. Light reflected from a hundred facets dissipates itselfin space and is lost; that concentrated in one tremendous ray pierces tothe stars.
Now I am going to be frank about myself, for without frankness whatis the value of such a record as this? Then it becomes simply anotherconvention, or rather conventional method of expressing the octoroonkind of truths with which the highly civilised races feed themselves,as fastidious ladies eat cakes and bread from which all but the smallestparticle of nourishment has been extracted.
The fact is, therefore, that I inherited most of my father's abilities,except his love for flint instruments which always bored me todistraction, because although they are by association really the mosthuman of things, somehow to me they never convey any idea of humanity.In addition I have a practical side which he lacked; had he possessed i
tsurely he must have become an archbishop instead of dying the vicar ofan unknown parish. Also I have a spiritual sense, mayhap mystical wouldbe a better term, which with all this religion was missing from myfather's nature.
For I think that notwithstanding his charity and devotion he never quitegot away from the shell of things, never cracked it and set his teeth inthe kernel which alone can feed our souls. His keen intellect, to takean example, recognised every one of the difficulties of our faith andflashed hither and thither in the darkness, seeking explanation, seekinglight, trying to reconcile, to explain. He was not great enough toput all this aside and go straight to the informing Soul beneath thatstrives to express itself everywhere, even through those husks which arecalled the World, the Flesh and the Devil, and as yet does not alwaysquite succeed.
It is this boggling over exteriors, this peering into pitfalls, thisdesire to prove that what such senses as we have tell us is impossible,is in fact possible, which causes the overthrow of many an earnest,seeking heart and renders its work, conducted on false lines, quitenugatory. These will trust to themselves and their own intelligence andnot be content to spring from the cliffs of human experience into theeverlasting arms of that Infinite which are stretched out to receivethem and to give them rest and the keys of knowledge. When will manlearn what was taught to him of old, that faith is the only plankwherewith he can float upon this sea and that his miserable works availhim nothing; also that it is a plank made of many sorts of wood, perhapsto suit our different weights?
So to be honest, in a sense I believe myself to be my father's superior,and I know that he agreed with me. Perhaps this is owing to the bloodof my Scotch mother which mixed well with his own; perhaps because theessential spirit given to me, though cast in his mould, was in factquite different--or of another alloy. Do we, I wonder, really understandthat there are millions and billions of these alloys, so many indeedthat Nature, or whatever is behind Nature, never uses the same twiceover? That is why no two human beings are or ever will be quiteidentical. Their flesh, the body of their humiliation, is identical inall, any chemist will prove it to you, but that which animates theflesh is distinct and different because it comes from the home of thatinfinite variety which is necessary to the ultimate evolution of thegood and bad that we symbolise as heaven and hell.
Further, I had and to a certain extent still have another advantageover my father, which certainly came to me from my mother, who was, asI judge from all descriptions and such likenesses as remain of her, anextremely handsome woman. I was born much better looking. He was smalland dark, a little man with deep-set eyes and beetling brows. I am alsodark, but tall above the average, and well made. I do not know that Ineed say more about my personal appearance, to me not a very attractivesubject, but the fact remains that they called me "handsome Humphrey"at the University, and I was the captain of my college boat and won manyprizes at athletic sports when I had time to train for them.
Until I went up to Oxford my father educated me, partly because he knewthat he could do it better than anyone else, and partly to save schoolexpenses. The experiment was very successful, as my love of all outdoorsports and of any small hazardous adventure that came to my hand, alsoof associating with fisherfolk whom the dangers of the deep make menamong men, saved me from becoming a milksop. For the rest I learned morefrom my father, whom I always desired to please because I loved him,than I should have done at the best and most costly of schools. This wasshown when at last I went to college with a scholarship, for there I didvery well indeed, as search would still reveal.
Here I had better set out some of my shortcomings, which in their sumhave made a failure of me. Yes, a failure in the highest sense, thoughI trust what Stevenson calls "a faithful failure." These have their rootin fastidiousness and that lack of perseverance, which really means alack of faith, again using the word in its higher and wider sense. Forif one had real faith one would always persevere, knowing that in everywork undertaken with high aim, there is an element of nobility, howeverhumble and unrecognised that work may seem to be. God after all is theGod of Work, it is written large upon the face of the Universe. I willnot expand upon the thought; it would lead me too far afield, but thosewho have understanding will know what I mean.
As regards what I interpret as fastidiousness, this is not very easyto express. Perhaps a definition will help. I am like a man with anover-developed sense of smell, who when walking through a foreign city,however clean and well kept, can always catch the evil savours thatare inseparable from such cities. More, his keen perception of theminterferes with all other perceptions and spoils his walks. The resultis that in after years, whenever he thinks of that beautiful city,he remembers, not its historic buildings or its wide boulevards, orwhatever it has to boast, but rather its ancient, fish-like smell. Atleast he remembers that first owing to this defect in his temperament.
So it is with everything. A lovely woman is spoiled for such a onebecause she eats too much or has too high a voice; he does not care forhis shooting because the scenery is flat, or for his fishing becausethe gnats bite as well as the trout. In short he is out of tune withthe world as it is. Moreover, this is a quality which, where it exists,cannot be overcome; it affects day-labourers as well as gentlemen atlarge. It is bred in the bone.
Probably the second failure-breeding fault, lack of perseverance, hasits roots in the first, at any rate in my case. At least on leavingcollege with some reputation, I was called to the Bar where, owing tocertain solicitor and other connections, I had a good opening. Also,owing to the excellence of my memory and powers of work, I began verywell, making money even during my first year. Then, as it happened, acertain case came my way and, my leader falling ill suddenly after itwas opened, was left in my hands. The man whose cause I was pleadingwas, I think, one of the biggest scoundrels it is possible to conceive.It was a will case and if he won, the effect would be to beggar two mostestimable middle-aged women who were justly entitled to the property,to which end personally I am convinced he had committed forgery; theperjury that accompanied it I do not even mention.
Well, he did win, thanks to me, and the estimable middle-aged ladieswere beggared, and as I heard afterwards, driven to such extremitiesthat one of them died of her misery and the other became a lodging-housekeeper. The details do not matter, but I may explain that these ladieswere unattractive in appearance and manner and broke down beneath mycross-examination which made them appear to be telling falsehoods,whereas they were only completely confused. Further, I invented aningenious theory of the facts which, although the judge regarded it withsuspicion, convinced an unusually stupid jury who gave me their verdict.
Everybody congratulated me and at the time I was triumphant, especiallyas my leader had declared that our case was impossible. Afterwards,however, my conscience smote me sorely, so much so that arguing fromthe false premise of this business, I came to the conclusion that thepractice of the Law was not suited to an honest man. I did not take thelarge view that such matters average themselves up and that if I haddone harm in this instance, I might live to do good in many others, andperhaps become a just judge, even a great judge. Here I may mention thatin after years, when I grew rich, I rescued that surviving old lady fromher lodging-house, although to this day she does not know the name ofher anonymous friend. So by degrees, without saying anything, for I kepton my chambers, I slipped out of practice, to the great disappointmentof everybody connected with me, and took to authorship.
A marvel came to pass, my first book was an enormous success. The wholeworld talked of it. A leading journal, delighted to have discoveredsomeone, wrote it up; other journals followed suit to be in themovement. One of them, I remember, which had already dismissed it withthree or four sneering lines, came out with a second and two-columnnotice. It sold like wildfire and I suppose had some merits, for it isstill read, though few know that I wrote it, since fortunately it waspublished under a pseudonym.
Again I was much elated and set to work to write another and, as Ibeli
eve, a much better book. But jealousies had been excited by thisleaping into fame of a totally unknown person, which were, moreover,accentuated through a foolish article that I published in answer to somecriticisms, wherein I spoke my mind with an insane freedom and bitingsarcasm. Indeed I was even mad enough to quote names and to give theexample of the very powerful journal which at first carped at my workand then gushed over it when it became the fashion. All of this made memany bitter enemies, as I found out when my next book appeared.
It was torn to shreds, it was reviled as subversive of moralityand religion, good arrows in those days. It was called puerile,half-educated stuff--I half-educated! More, an utterly false charge ofplagiarism was cooked up against me and so well and venomously run thatvast numbers of people concluded that I was a thief of the lowest order.Lastly, my father, from whom the secret could no longer be kept, sternlydisapproved of both these books which I admit were written from a veryradical and somewhat anti-church point of view. The result was our firstquarrel and before it was made up, he died suddenly.
Now again fastidiousness and my lack of perseverance did their work, andsolemnly I swore that I would never write another book, an oath which Ihave kept till this moment, at least so far as publication is concerned,and now break only because I consider it my duty so to do and am notanimated by any pecuniary object.
Thus came to an end my second attempt at carving out a career. By nowI had grown savage and cynical, rather revengeful also, I fear. Knowingmyself to possess considerable abilities in sundry directions, I satdown, as it were, to think things over and digest my past experiences.Then it was that the truth of a very ancient adage struck upon my mind,namely, that money is power. Had I sufficient money I could laugh atunjust critics for example; indeed they or their papers would scarcelydare to criticise me for fear lest it should be in my power to do thema bad turn. Again I could follow my own ideas in life and perhaps workgood in the world, and live in such surroundings as commended themselvesto me. It was as clear as daylight, but--how to make the money?
I had some capital as the result of my father's death, about L8,000 inall, plus a little more that my two books had brought in. In what waycould I employ it to the best advantage? I remembered that a cousin ofmy father and therefore my own, was a successful stock-broker, alsothat there had been some affection between them. I went to him, he wasa good, easy-natured man who was frankly glad to see me, and offered toput L5,000 into his business, for I was not minded to risk every thing Ihad, if he would give me a share in the profits. He laughed heartily atmy audacity.
"Why, my boy," he said, "being totally inexperienced at this game, youmight lose us more than that in a month. But I like your courage, I likeyour courage, and the truth is that I do want help. I will think it overand write to you."
He thought it over and in the end offered to try me for a year at afixed salary with a promise of some kind of a partnership if I suitedhim. Meanwhile my L5,000 remained in my pocket.
I accepted, not without reluctance since with the impatience of youthI wanted everything at once. I worked hard in that office and soonmastered the business, for my knowledge of figures--I had taken afirst-class mathematical degree at college--came to my aid, as in a waydid my acquaintance with Law and Literature. Moreover I had a certainaptitude for what is called high finance. Further, Fortune, as usual,showed me a favourable face.
In one year I got the partnership with a small share in the largeprofits of the business. In two the partner above me retired, and I tookhis place with a third share of the firm. In three my cousin, satisfiedthat it was in able hands, began to cease his attendance at the officeand betook himself to gardening which was his hobby. In four I paid himout altogether, although to do this I had to borrow money on our credit,for by agreement the title of the firm was continued. Then came thatextraordinary time of boom which many will remember to their cost. Imade a bold stroke and won. On a certain Saturday when the books weremade up, I found that after discharging all liabilities, I should notbe worth more than L20,000. On the following Saturday but two when thebooks were made up, I was worth L153,000! L'appetit vient en mangeant.It seemed nothing to me when so many were worth millions.
For the next year I worked as few have done, and when I struck a balanceat the end of it, I found that on the most conservative estimate I wasthe owner of a million and a half in hard cash, or its equivalent. I wasso tired out that I remember this discovery did not excite me at all. Ifelt utterly weary of all wealth-hunting and of the City and its ways.Moreover my old fastidiousness and lack of perseverance re-assertedthemselves. I reflected, rather late in the day perhaps, on theruin that this speculation was bringing to thousands, of which somelamentable instances had recently come to my notice, and once moreconsidered whether it were a suitable career for an upright man. I hadwealth; why should I not take it and enjoy life?
Also--and here my business acumen came in, I was sure that these timescould not last. It is easy to make money on a rising market, but whenit is falling the matter is very different. In five minutes I made upmy mind. I sent for my junior partners, for I had taken in two, and toldthem that I intended to retire at once. They were dismayed both at myloss, for really I was the firm, and because, as they pointed out, ifI withdrew all my capital, there would not be sufficient left to enablethem to carry on.
One of them, a blunt and honest man, said to my face that it would bedishonourable of me to do so. I was inclined to answer him sharply, thenremembered that his words were true.
"Very well," I said, "I will leave you L600,000 on which you shall payme five per cent interest, but no share of the profits."
On these terms we dissolved the partnership and in a year they hadlost the L600,000, for the slump came with a vengeance. It saved them,however, and to-day they are earning a reasonable income. But I havenever asked them for that L600,000.
When the World Shook Page 1