Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli

by Marie Corelli

  Here the speaker paused, — and Theos, surveying the vast listening crowds, fancied they looked like an audience of moveless ghosts rather than human beings, — so still, so pallid, so grave were they, one and all. Khosrul continued in softer, more melancholy accents, that, while plaintive, were still singularly impressive.

  “O my ill-fated, my beloved fellow-countrymen!” he exclaimed, extending his arms with a vehemently pleading gesture as though in the excess of emotion he would have drawn all the people to his heart.— “Ye unhappy ones? … have I not given ye warning? Have I not bidden ye beware of this great evil which should come to pass? — Evil for which there is no remedy, — none, — neither in the earth, nor the sea, nor the invisible comforts of the air! … for God hath spoken, and who shall contradict the thunder of His voice! Behold the end is at hand of all the pleasant things of Al-Kyris, — the feasting and the musical assemblies, the cymbal-symphonies and the choir-dances, the labors of students and the triumphs of sages, — all these shall seem but the mockery of madness in the swift-descending night of overwhelming destruction! Woe is me that ye would not listen when I called, but turned every man to his own devices and the following after idols? Nay now, what will ye do in extremity? — Will ye chant hymns to the Sun? Lo, he is deaf and blind for all his golden glory, and is but a taper set in the window of the sky, to be extinguished at God’s good pleasure! Will ye supplicate Nagaya? O fools and desperate! — how shall a brute beast answer prayer! — Vain, vain is all beseeching, — shut forever are the doors of escape, — therefore cover yourselves with the garments of burial, — prepare each one his grave and rich funeral things, — gather together the rosemary and myrrh, the precious ointments and essences, the strings of gold and the jewelled talismans whereby ye think to fight against corruption, — and fall down, every man in his own wrought hollow in the ground, face turned to earth and die — for Death hath broken through the strong gates of Al-Kyris, and hath taken the City Magnificent captive unknowingly! Alas, alas! that ye would not follow whither I led, — that ye would not hearken to the Vision of the Future, dimly yet gloriously revealed! … the Future! … the Future!” …

  He broke off suddenly, and raising his eyes to the deep blue sky above him, seemed for a moment as though he were caught up in the cloud of some wondrous dream. Still the enormous throng of people stood hushed and motionless, — not a word, not a sound escaped them, — there was something positively appalling in such absolute immobility, — at least it appeared so to Theos, who could not understand this dispassionate behavior on the part of so large and lately excited a multitude. All at once a voice marvellously tender, clear, and pathetic trembled on the silence, — was it, could it be the voice of Khosrul? Yes! but so changed, so solemn, so infinitely sweet, that it might have been some gentle angel speaking:

  “Like a fountain of sweet water in the desert, or the rising of the moon in a gloomy midnight,” he said slowly,— “Even so is the hope and promise of the Supremely Beloved! Through the veiling darkness of the coming ages His Light already shines upon my soul! O blessed Advent! … O happy Future! … O days when privileged Humanity shall bridge by Love the gulf between this world and Heaven! What shall be said of Him who cometh to redeem us, O my foreseeing spirit! What shall be told concerning His most marvellous Beauty? Even as a dove that for pity of its helpless younglings doth battle soft-breasted with a storm, even so shall He descend from out His glory sempiternal, and teach us how to conquer Sin and Death, — aye, even with the meekness of a little child He shall approach, and choose His dwelling here among us. O heavenly Child! O wisdom of God contained in innocence! … happy the learning that shall learn from Thee! — noble the pride that shall humble itself before Thy gentleness! [Footnote: The idea of a Saviour who should be born as Man to redeem the world was prevalent among all nations and dates from the remotest ages. Coming down to what must be termed quite a modern period compared to that in which the city of Al-Kyris had its existence, we find that the Romans under Octavius Caesar were wont to exclaim at their sacred meetings, “The times FORETOLD BY THE SYBIL are arrived; may a new age soon restore that Saturn? SOON MAY THE CHILD BE BORN WHO SHALL BANISH THE AGE OF IRON?” Tacitus and Suetonius both mention the prophecies “in the sacred books of the priests” which declare that the “East shall be in commotion,” and that “MEN FROM JUDEA” shall subject “everything to their dominion.”] O Prince of Manhood and Divinity entwined! Thou shalt acquaint Thyself with human griefs, and patiently unravel the perplexities of human longings! — to prove Thy sacred sympathy with suffering, Thou shalt be content to suffer, — to explain the mystery of Death, Thou shalt even be content to die. O people of Al-Kyris, hear ye all the words that tell of this Wonderful, Inestimable King of Peace, — mine aged eyes do see Him now, far, far off in the rising mist of unformed future things! — the Cross — the Cross, on which His Man’s pure Life dissolves itself in glory, stretches above me in spreading beams of light! … Ah! ’tis a glittering pathway in the skies whereon men and the angels meet and know each other! He is the strong and perfect Spirit, that shall break loose from Death and declare the insignificance of the Grave, — He is the lingering Star in the East that shall rise and lighten all spiritual darkness — the unknown, unnamed Redeemer of the World, … the Man-God Saviour that SHALL COME?”

  “SHALL come?” cried Theos, suddenly roused to the utmost pitch of frenzied excitement, and pronouncing each word with loud and involuntary vehemence … “Nay! … for He HAS come! HE DIED FOR US, AND ROSE AGAIN FROM THE DEAD MORE THAN EIGHTEEN HUNDRED YEARS AGO!”

  * * * * *

  A frightful silence followed, — a breathless cessation of even the faintest quiver of sound. The mighty mass of people, apparently moved by one accord, turned with swift, stealthy noiselessness toward the audacious speaker, … thousands of glittering eyes were fixed upon him in solemnly inquiring wonderment, while he himself, now altogether dismayed at the effect of his own rash utterance, thought he had never experienced a more awful moment! For it was as though all the skeletons he had lately seen in the Passage of the Tombs had suddenly clothed themselves with spectral flesh and hair and the shadowy garments of men, and had advanced into broad daylight to surround him in their terrible lifeless ranks, and wrench from him the secret of an after-existence concerning which THEY were ignorant!

  How ghostly and drear seemed that dense crowd in this new light of his delirious fancy! A clammy dew broke out on his forehead, — he saw the blue skies, the huge buildings in the Square, the Obelisk, the fountains, the trees, all whirling round him in a wild dance of the dizziest distraction, … when Sah-luma’s rich voice close to his ear recalled his wandering senses:

  “Why, man, art thou drunk or mad?” and the Laureate’s face expressed a kind of sarcastic astonishment,— “What a fool thou hast made of thyself, good comrade! … By my soul, how shall thy condition be explained to these open-mouthed starers below! See how they gape upon thee! … thou art most assuredly a noticeable spectacle! … and yon maniac Prophet doth evidently judge thee as one of his craft, a fellow professional howler of marvels, else he would scarcely deign to fix his eyes so obstinately on thy countenance! Nay, verily thou dost outrival him in the strangeness of thy language! … What moved thee to such frenzied utterance? Surely thou hast a stroke of the sun! — thy words were most absolutely devoid of reason! … as senseless as the jabber of an idiot to his own shadow on the wall!”

  Theos was mute, — he had no defense to offer. The crowd still stared upon him, — and his heart beat fast with a mingled sense of fear and pride — fear of his present surroundings, — pride that he had spoken out his conviction boldly, reckless of all consequences. And this pride was a most curious thing to analyze, because it did not so much consist in the fact of his having openly confessed his inward thought, as that he felt he had gained some special victory in thus ACKNOWLEDGING HIS BELIEF IN THE POSITIVE EXISTENCE OF THE “Saviour” who formed the subject of Khosrul’s prophecy. Full of a singular sor
t of self-congratulation which yet had nothing to do with selfishness, he became so absorbed in his own reflections that he started like a man brusquely aroused from sleep when the Prophet’s strong grave voice apostrophized him personally over the heads of the throng:

  “Who and what art thou, that dost speak of the FUTURE as though it were the PAST? Hast thou held converse with the Angels, and is Past and Future ONE with thee in the dream of the departing Present? Answer me, thou stranger to the city of Al-Kyris! … Has God taught THEE the way to Everlasting Life?”

  Again that awful silence made itself felt like a deadly chill on the sunlit air, — the quiet, patient crowds seemed waiting in hushed suspense for some reply which should be as a flash of spiritual enlightenment to leap from one to the other with kindling heat and radiance, and vivify them all into a new and happier existence. But now, when Theos most strongly desired to speak, he remained dumb as stone! … vainly he struggled against and contended with the invisible, mysterious, and relentless despotism that smote him on the mouth as it were, and deprived him of all power of utterance, … his tongue was stiff and frozen, … his very lips were sealed! Trembling violently, he gazed beseechingly at Sah-luma, who held his arm in a firm and friendly grasp, and who, apparently quickly perceiving that he was distressed and embarrassed, undertook himself to furnish forth what he evidently considered a fitting response to Khosrul’s adjuration.

  “Most venerable Seer!” he cried mockingly, his bright face radiant with mirth and his dark eyes flashing a careless contempt as he spoke— “Thou art as short-sighted as thine own auguries if thou canst not at once comprehend the drift of my friend’s humor! He hath caught the infection of thy fanatic eloquence, and, like thee, knows naught of what he says: moreover he hath good wine and sunlight mingled in his blood, whereby he hath been doubtless moved to play a jest upon thee. I pray thee heed him not! He is as free to declare thy Prophecy is of the PAST, as thou art to insist on its being of the FUTURE, — in both ways ’tis a most foolish fallacy! Nevertheless, continue thy entertaining discourse, Sir Graybeard! . . . and if thou must needs address thyself to any one soul in particular, why let it be me, — for though, thanks to mine own excellent good sense, I have no faith in angels nor crosses, nor everlasting life, nor any of the strange riddles wherewith thou seekest to perplex and bewilder the brains of the ignorant, still am I Laureate of the realm, and ready to hold argument with thee, — yea! — until such time as these dumfounded soldiers and citizens of Al-Kyris shall remember their duty sufficiently to seize and take thee captive in the King’s great name!”

  As he ceased a deep sigh ran, like the first sound of a rising wind among trees, through the heretofore motionless multitude, — a faint, dawning, yet doubtful smile reflected itself on their faces, — and the old familiar shout broke feebly from their lips:

  “Hail, Sah-luma! Let us hear Sah-luma!”

  Sah-luma looked down upon them all in airy derision.

  “O fickle, terror-stricken fools!” he exclaimed— “O thankless and disloyal people! What! — ye WILL see me now? … ye WILL hear me? … Aye! but who shall answer for your obedience to my words! Nay, is it possible that I, your country’s chosen Chief Minstrel, should have stood so long among ye disregarded! How comes it your dull eyes and ears were fixed so fast upon yon dotard miscreant whose days are numbered? Methought t’was but Sah-luma’s voice that could persuade ye to assemble thus in such locust-like swarms.. since when have the Poet and the People of Al-Kyris ceased to be as one?”

  A vague, muttering sound answered him, whether of shame or dissatisfaction it was difficult to tell. Khosrul’s vibrating accent struck sharply across that muffled murmur.

  “The Poet and the People of Al-Kyris are further asunder than light and darkness!” he cried vehemently— “For the Poet has been false to his high vocation, and the People trust in him no more!”

  There was an instant’s hush, … a hush as it seemed of grieved acquiescence on the part of the populace, — and during that brief pause Theos’s heart gave a fierce bound against his ribs as though some one had suddenly shot at him with a poisoned arrow. He glanced quickly at Sah-luma, — but Sah-luma stood calmly unmoved, his handsome head thrown back, a cynical smile on his lips and his eyes darker than ever with an intensity of unutterable scorn.

  “Sah-luma! … Sah-luma!” and the piercing, reproachful voice of the Prophet penetrated every part of the spacious square like a sonorous bell ringing over a still landscape: “O divine Spirit of Song pent up in gross clay, was ever mortal more gifted than thou! In thee was kindled the white fire of Heaven, — to thee were confided the memories of vanished worlds, . . for thee God bade His Nature wear a thousand shapes of varied meaning, — the sun, the moon, the stars were appointed as thy servants, — for thou wert born POET, the mystically chosen Teacher and Consoler of Mankind! What hast thou done, Sah-luma, . . what hast thou done with the treasures bestowed upon thee by the all-endowing Angels? … How hast thou used the talisman of thy genius? To comfort the afflicted? … to dethrone and destroy the oppressor? … to uphold the cause of Justice? … to rouse the noblest instincts of thy race? … to elevate and purify the world? … Alas, alas! — thou hast made Thyself the idol of thy muse, and thou being but perishable, thy fame shall perish with thee! Thou hast drowsed away thy manhood in the lap of vice, . . thou hast slept and dreamed when thou should have been awake and vigilant! Not I, but THOU shouldst have warned the people of their coming doom! … not I, but THOU shouldst have marked the threatening signs of the pregnant hour, — not I, but THOU shouldst have perceived the first faint glimmer of God’s future scheme of glad salvation, — not I, but THOU shouldst have taught and pleaded, and swayed by thy matchless sceptre of sweet song, the passions of thy countrymen! Hadst thou been true to that first flame of Thought within thee, O Sah-luma, how thy glory would have dwarfed the power of kings! Empires might have fallen, cities decayed, and nations been absorbed in ruin, — and yet thy clear-convincing voice, rendered imperishable by its faithfulness should have sounded forth in triumph above the foundering wrecks of Time! O Poet unworthy of thy calling! … How thou hast wantoned with the sacred Muse! … how thou hast led her stainless feet into the mire of sensual hypocrisies, and decked her with the trumpery gew-gaws of a meaningless fair speech! — How thou hast caught her by the virginal hair and made her chastity the screen for all thine own licentiousness! … Thou shouldst have humbly sought her benediction, — thou shouldst have handled her with gentle reverence and patient ardor, — from her wise lips thou shouldst have learned how best to PRACTICE those virtues whose praise thou didst evasively proclaim, … thou shouldst have shrined her, throned her, worshiped her, and served her, . . yea! … even as a sinful man may serve an Angel who loves him!”

  Ah, what a strange, cold thrill ran through Theos as he heard these last words! ‘As a sinful man may serve an Angel who loves him!’ How happy the man thus loved! … how fortunate the sinner thus permitted to serve! … WHO WAS HE? … Could there be any one so marvellously privileged? He wondered dimly, — and a dull, aching pain throbbed heavily in his brows. It was a very singular thing too, that he should find himself strongly and personally affected by Khosrul’s address to Sah-luma, yet such was the case, … so much so, indeed, that he accepted all the Prophet’s reproaches as though they applied solely TO HIS OWN PAST LIFE! He could not understand his emotion, … nevertheless he kept on dreamily regretting that things WERE as Khosrul had said, … that he had NOT fulfilled his vocation, — and that he had neither been humble enough nor devout enough nor unselfish enough to deserve the high and imperial name of POET.

  Round and round like a flying mote this troublesome idea circled in his brain, … he must do better in future, he resolved, supposing that any future remained to Him in which to work, . . HE MUST REDEEM THE PAST! … Here he roused his mental faculties with a start and forced himself to realize that it was SAH-LUMA to whom the Prophet spoke, . . Sah-luma, ONLY Sah-luma, — not himself!

&n
bsp; Then straightway he became indignant on his friend’s behalf, — why should Sah-luma be blamed? … Sah-luma was a glorious poet! — a master-singer of singers! … his fume must and should endure forever! … Thus thinking, he regained his composure by degrees, and strove to assume the same air of easy indifference as that exhibited by his companion, when again Khosrul’s declamatory tones thundered forth with an absoluteness of emphasis that was both startling and convincing:

  “Hear me, Sah-luma, Chief Minstrel of Al-Kyris! — hear me, thou who hast willfully wasted the golden moments of never-returning time! THOU ART MARKED OUT FOR DEATH! — death sudden and fierce as the leap of the desert panther on its prey! … death that shall come to thee through the traitorous speech of the evil woman whose beauty has sapped thy strength and rendered thy glory inglorious!… death that for thee, alas! shall be mournful and utter oblivion! Naught shall it avail to thee that thy musical weaving of words hath been graven seven times over, on tablets of stone and agate and ivory, of gold and white silex and porphyry, and the unbreakable rose-adamant, — none of these shall suffice to keep thy name in remembrance, — for what cannot be broken shall be melted with flame, and what cannot be erased shall be buried miles deep in the bosom of earth, whence it never again shall be lifted into the light of day! Aye! thou shalt be FORGOTTEN! — forgotten as though thou hadst never sung, — other poets shall chant in the world, yet maybe none so well as thou! — other laurel and myrtle wreaths shall be given by countries and kings to bards unworthy, of whom none perchance shall have thy sweetness! … but thou, — thou the most grandly gifted, gift-squandering Poet the world has ever known, shalt be cast among the dust of unremembered nothings, and the name of Sah-luma shall carry no meaning to any man born in the coming here-after! For thou hast cherished within Thyself the poison that withers thee, … the deadly poison of Doubt, the Denial of God’s existence, … the accursed blankness of Disbelief in the things of the Life Eternal! … wherefore, thy spirit is that of one lost and rebellious, — whose best works are futile, — whose days are void of example, — and whose carelessly grasped torch of song shall be suddenly snatched from thy hand and extinguished in darkness! God pardon thee, dying Poet! … God give thy parting soul a chance of penance and of sweet redemption! … God comfort thee in that drear Land of Shadow whither thou art bound! … God bring thee forth again from Chaos to a nobler Future! … Sin-burdened as thou art, my blessing follows thee in thy last agony! Sah-luma! … FALLEN ANGEL, SELF-EXILED FROM THY PEERS! … FAREWELL!”