Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli

by Marie Corelli

  He paused, and a great sadness clouded his features.

  “In my life,” he said, “I have seen the full meaning of the ‘evil’ which is the fruit of perverted thoughts, — thoughts that were poisoned by drink, — thoughts that were generated, not by the healthful processes of nature, but by the working of the pernicious drugs used in the manufacture of pernicious liquor, — adulterous thoughts, murderous thoughts — thoughts that finally fruited into misery and death. I have seen lives ruined by drink, — I have seen woman’s beauty dragged into the mire of swinish sensuality, — all through drink. Drink is the blot on our national scutcheon — may God remove it! For I fear Man will not! He lacks courage for the fight; and many principalities and powers are in league against his struggling efforts to free himself from the chains of the degrading vice that robs him of his self-respect. He is too content to remain the foolish tool of a Trade. With his hard earnings which he wastes in drink, he builds the fortunes of rich brewers and distillers, who, by some curious shortsightedness of state authority, are presently landed in the House of Lords to assist in governing the country which they have helped to debase. And our workhouses continue to be crammed with paupers, half of whom might and would have been respectable, self-supporting citizens if the Drink had not fallen upon them like a blight and a curse. The late Dean Farrar once put forward an example of a pauper in the workhouse who stated that he was eighty years of age. Asked if he had ever been a drunkard, he replied No, he had only been accustomed to take three pints of beer a day. Calculating on this basis you will find that he, having continued that habit since he was twenty for sixty years, if he had laid the money by at four per cent., would have had two thousand one hundred and seventy-two pounds, or nearly one hundred pounds a-year of his own for the rest of his life, instead of going into the workhouse. But there is little use in stating these facts, or pointing the moral to adorn the tale. The nation to-day is in the hands of a craven Church and a purchased press. I say a craven Church, — I dare to say this in the pulpit of St. Paul’s where I am preaching for the first time to-day, and where, for the very frankness of my utterance, I know I shall never preach again. A craven Church! — I, who am a minister of that Church, blush for its cowardice and for the pusillanimity of many of its clergy! For, in the midst of perhaps the most perilous time of trouble that has threatened us for centuries, the Church, as a power, does little or nothing. Itself is full of vacillations and uncertainties. It listens to this theory and that theory. It puts on garments borrowed from Rome, and seeks to make up for its lack of faith by an abundance of ritual. It tolerates ‘new’ theologies. It revises its old beliefs — puts forward this dogma — suppresses that. And with all its wordy discussions, its contradictions and arguments, it seems to forget that it is wronging its one Divine Foundation, — Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day and for ever, whom we must follow, whom we must obey, if we would find the road to everlasting love and life. It is almost as if we crucified Our Lord for the second time, and watched His Agony with indifference, crying out ‘If Thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross!”

  He stood silent for a brief space, — then he slowly closed the Bible which till now had remained open before him.

  “The thoughts that are spreading in our nation to-day,” he said, with stern and sorrowful emphasis— “are not the thoughts that build up national welfare. They are thoughts of personal greed, personal amusement, personal advantage, sensuality and sin. The old faith, the old honor, the old patriotism — these saving graces no longer adorn the men and women who by fortune and accident of birth are for a time set above the working million to control their destinies. The influence of Judaism sways the throne and the marketplace alike, —— —— — the alien sits within our gates and robs our native men of their rightful work, — their rightful bread. I have spoken of a craven Church and a purchased press. These exist; and between them the minds of the people oscillate, — but they trust neither one nor the other. They look everywhere for truth, stability, courage, — but they only see Purse and Party. The craven Church has no aspirations as from God to offer them, — only the dry husks of old and conflicting theories containing no support in weakness, no consolation in sorrow. The purchased press chiefly lives to recommend the several aims of its several purchasers; to urge the particular views of its particular syndicate of Jews and others upon the British ‘fool public’ as, by them, it is called, — the fool public which is so piteously trapped into spending its money to make the prosperity of knaves. For the rest its columns are made up of ‘thoughts’ — thoughts of which the evil fruit can be already seen ripening on the bough. Thoughts that are morbid and unwholesome — thoughts that ‘strengthen the hands of evil doers that none doth return from his wickedness’ — thoughts from which ‘profaneness is gone forth into all the land.’ Thoughts that infect the brains of the multitude, breeding swarms of foolish and injurious imaginations, — thoughts which so far from ennobling and dignifying national ideals, tend to degrade and debase them. The power of the press is a power for which those who wield it will be answerable to God. That they do not themselves believe in God matters little — His existence is not destroyed by their incredulity. The men who for money’s sake spread false, contaminating, mean or scurrilous thoughts through the masses of the people are traitors to the country and should meet with traitors’ punishment. For there is no end to the ‘fruit’ of a thought. Its seed plants itself; it grows and flourishes continually. A great thought sows other great thoughts, — an evil thought sows a spreading crop of evil. If the brains of a people are sound and sane, the thoughts of a people will be sound and sane likewise. How earnestly then should we fight against the curse of drink, which not only deteriorates the brain, but finally destroys it! There are certain unnameable sins practiced among the upper classes of society to-day” — he paused, and looked down with unflinchingly full gaze upon the moveless mass of men and women crowded below the pulpit— “I say there are unnameable sins among some of you that should bring the wrath of God down upon you in destroying fire!

  Sins of drunkenness, degeneration and vice, — sins which are the ‘fruit’ of drunken, vicious and degenerate thought. Beware! For God is not mocked! You may mock me, the preacher of God’s Word, to your heart’s content, — the poor sweated underpaid journalist of Fleet Street, writing for his ‘trust’ press companies, under command, may dismiss my appeal to you in a contemptuous paragraph on what he will easily term a ‘jeremiad’ — but I say to you again — Beware! Rouse yourselves from apathy before it is too late, — do something of yourselves — you, the People of this noble land, — do something to show you are not the fools your Press takes you for! — that you are in the main brave and honest, — that you would rather be sober than drunken — strong than weak — that you will have your women pure — your homes clean — your children innocent! Do something, I say, to protest against the growing scorn of the marriage-tie, — the indifference to motherhood — the demoralization of girlhood — the self-degradation of woman who in screaming for a political vote is losing her highest right — the honor and respect of man! It is for you to think out the problems that are presented to you to-day — you — the great People of Great Britain. Think well and deeply! — think of your Church, your press, your Government, your commerce, and fight out corruption in each and all! — think of the spirit in which your country’s work is being done and resolve yourselves as to whether you approve of that spirit or not. And when you have resolved, speak and act fearlessly, letting both speech and action be for the betterment of your nation! For, if you think only for yourselves, only for your own convenience and temporary pleasure, only for your own advantage and the humoring of your own desires, the vengeance of God must fall upon you, — that vengeance which is simply the outcome of natural law. No man is permitted to live for himself alone. I have proved that in my own experience. He must give freely of all he hath, else it shall all be taken from him!”

  He was silent a moment,
— then continued:

  “I have spoken to you, my friends, as perhaps few preachers in this pulpit are allowed to speak, — indeed I think I may say that if the tenor of my discourse had been suspected before I came here, I should have been politely ‘suppressed.’ For the ‘higher’ clergy, as some of them are called, are anxious to demonstrate to the world the peculiar ‘broadness’ of their views on religion and morality, — which ‘broadness’ simply means free license to make of religion and morality what they please. But I am not one of these exalted Church diplomats. I only see the wronged and loving Christ — and the straying million that would serve Him faithfully if they only knew how! And what I have said to you, I have said from my heart — from my soul, — and with complete indifference to consequences. Attacks will not hurt me, nor reproaches dismay. For it is time to speak, — time to take up a firm stand against the gross selfishness and sensuality of the age. And it is time for you, the People, to think for Yourselves — not to accept the thoughts proffered to you by conflicting creeds, — not to obey the morbid suggestions propounded and discussed by a ‘sensational’ press, — but to think for your country’s good, with thoughts that are high and proud and pure! Otherwise, — if you remain content to let things drift as they are drifting, — if you allow the brains of this and future generations to become obscured by drink and devilment, — if you give way to the inroads of vice, and join with the latter-day degenerate in his or her coarse derision of virtue, you invite terrific disaster upon yourselves, and upon this great empire — disaster more wide and far-reaching than you can dream of or imagine! For it is by God’s unalterable Law that the sword must fall! — and that sword is suspended over us all in this our day by less than a single hair! Remember the Divine warning:—’ Hear, O earth: I will bring evil upon this people, even the fruit of their thoughts!’”

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  * * * * *

  * * *

  Out from the Cathedral the huge congregation poured, scattering its sections all over London, talking with heated animation as they went, some angrily, some scornfully, some jeeringly and a few admiringly, but all more or less violently moved from their usual comfortable calm. And avoiding the press of people as much as possible, young Laurence Everton walked through the City streets with a small, gray-haired dapper little man in the garb of a Catholic priest, no other than Sebastien Douay.

  “Ah, my Laurence!” he exclaimed— “We shall never hear your father preach again in London! Such a sermon has offended everybody!”

  Laurence smiled dreamily.

  “Does it matter?”

  “To him, no! — but the world—”

  “What does he care for the world, except when it calls for his love and pity?” said Laurence— “The world cannot help him. But he can help the world.”

  “He can and he does,” — agreed Douay— “But at a certain cost to himself. His Church is afraid of him.”

  “Because he speaks truth — I know!” said Laurence. “Again — does it matter?”

  Douay looked up at the handsome young man beside him, and thought of a fair little face and blue eyes long ago hidden in the dusty darkness of the grave.

  “No — perhaps not!” he answered— “And you, Laurence, will you also one day be a famous preacher?” Laurence shook his head decisively.

  “Never! I shall never enter the Church!”

  “Why?”

  Laurence stopped in his walk. There was a brightness on his features as of some inward illumination.

  “Because I want too big a pulpit!” he said— “Too large an audience! There’s no cathedral vast enough to hold the congregation I seek to draw! My strength is limited, — but my ambition is boundless! I shall be a writer, not a preacher. For when the people will not go to church they will read — and when a sermon is forgotten and perishes — sometimes, — only sometimes! — a Book lives!”

  Life Everlasting

  A REALITY OF ROMANCE

  CONTENTS

  AUTHOR’S PROLOGUE

  I. THE HEROINE BEGINS HER STORY

  II. THE FAIRY SHIP

  III. THE ANGEL OF A DREAM

  IV. A BUNCH OF HEATHER

  V. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

  VI. RECOGNITION

  VII. MEMORIES

  VIII. VISIONS

  IX. DOUBTFUL DESTINY

  X. STRANGE ASSOCIATIONS

  XI. ONE WAY OF LOVE

  XII. A LOVE-LETTER

  XIII. THE HOUSE OF ASELZION

  XIV. CROSS AND STAR

  XV. A FIRST LESSON

  XVI. SHADOW AND SOUND

  XVII. THE MAGIC BOOK

  XVIII. DREAMS WITHIN A DREAM

  XIX. THE UNKNOWN DEEP

  XX. INTO THE LIGHT

  AUTHOR’S PROLOGUE

  In the Gospels of the only Divine Friend this world has ever had or ever will have, we read of a Voice, a ‘Voice in the Wilderness.’ There have been thousands of such Voices; — most of them ineffectual. All through the world’s history their echoes form a part of the universal record, and from the very beginning of time they have sounded forth their warnings or entreaties in vain. The Wilderness has never cared to hear them. The Wilderness does not care to hear them now.

  Why, then, do I add an undesired note to the chorus of rejected appeal? How dare I lift up my voice in the Wilderness, when other voices, far stronger and sweeter, are drowned in the laughter of fools and the mockery of the profane? Truly, I do not know. But I am sure that I am not moved by egotism or arrogance. It is simply out of love and pity for suffering human kind that I venture to become another Voice discarded — a voice which, if heard at all, may only serve to awaken the cheap scorn and derision of the clowns of the piece.

  Yet, should this be so, I would not have it otherwise, I have never at any time striven to be one with the world, or to suit my speech pliantly to the conventional humour of the moment. I am often attacked, yet am not hurt; I am equally often praised, and am not elated. I have no time to attend to the expression of opinions, which, whether good or bad, are to me indifferent. And whatever pain I have felt or feel, in experiencing human malice, has been, and is, in the fact that human malice should exist at all, — not for its attempted wrong towards myself. For I, personally speaking, have not a moment to waste among the mere shadows of life which are not Life itself. I follow the glory, — not the gloom.

  So whether you, who wander in darkness of your own making, care to come towards the little light which leads me onward, or whether you prefer to turn away from me altogether into your self-created darker depths, is not my concern. I cannot force you to bear me company. God Himself cannot do that, for it is His Will and Law that each human soul shall shape its own eternal future. No one mortal can make the happiness or salvation of another. I, like yourselves, am in the ‘Wilderness,’ — but I know that there are ways of making it blossom like the rose! Yet, — were all my heart and all my love outpoured upon you, I could not teach you the Divine transfiguring charm, — unless you, equally with all your hearts and all your love, resolutely and irrevocably WILLED to learn.

  Nevertheless, despite your possible indifference, — your often sheer inertia — I cannot pass you by, having peace and comfort for myself without at least offering to share that peace and comfort with you. Many of you are very sad, — and I would rather you were happy. Your ways of living are trivial and unsatisfactory — your so-called ‘pleasant’ vices lead you into unforeseen painful perplexities — your ideals of what may be best for your own enjoyment and advancement fall far short of your dreams, — your amusements pall on your over-wearied senses, — your youth hurries away like a puff of thistledown on the wind, — and you spend all your time feverishly in trying to live without understanding Life. Life, the first of all things, the essence of all things, — Life which is yours to hold and to keep, and to RE-CREATE over and over again in your own persons, — this precious jewel you throw away, and when it falls out of your possession by your own act, you think such an end w
as necessary and inevitable. Poor unhappy mortals! So self-sufficient, so proud, so ignorant! Like some foolish rustic, who, finding a diamond, sees no difference between it and a bit of glass, you, with the whole Universe sweeping around you in mighty beneficent circles of defensive, protective and ever re-creative power, — power which is yours to use and to control — imagine that the entire Cosmos is the design of mere blind unintelligent Chance, and that the Divine Life which thrills within you serves no purpose save to lead you to Death! Most wonderful and most pitiful it is that such folly, such blasphemy should still prevail, — and that humanity should still ascribe to the Almighty Creator less wisdom and less love than that with which He has endowed His creatures. For the very first lesson in the beginning of knowledge is that Life is the essential Being of God, and that each individual intelligent outcome of Life is deathless as God Himself.