Ardath by Marie Corelli (best books to read in life .TXT) 📕

no man ever will, or ever can, understand the worth of superhuman qualities. Humanity is only capable of worshipping Self—thus, it is necessary, that when people are persuaded to pay honor to an elected Divinity, they should be well and comfortably assured in their own minds that they are but offering homage to an Image of Self placed before them in a deified or heroic form. This satisfies the natural idolatrous cravings of Egotism, and this is all that priests or teachers desire. Now in the worship of Nagaya, we have the natures of Man and Woman conjoined, . . the Snake is the emblem of male wisdom united with female subtilty—and the two essences, mingled in one, make as near an approach to what we may imagine the positive Divine capacity as can be devised on earth by earthly intelligences. If, on the other hand, such an absurd doctrine as that formulated in the fanatic madman Khosrul’s ‘Prophecy’ could be imagined as actually admitted, and proclaimed to the nations, it would have very few followers, and the sincerity of those few might well be open to doubt. For the Deity it speaks of is supposed to be an immortal God disguised as Man,—

a God who voluntarily rejects and sets aside His own glory to serve and save His perishable creatures,—thus the root of that religion would consist in Self-abnegation, and Self-abnegation is, as experience proves, utterly impossible to the human being.”

 

“Why is it impossible?” asked Theos with a quiver of passionate earnestness in his voice,—“Are there none in all the world who would sacrifice their own interests to further another’s welfare and happiness?”

 

The Priest smiled,—a delicately derisive smile.

 

“Certainly not!” he replied blandly.. “The very question strikes me as singularly foolish, inasmuch as we live in a planet where, if we do not serve ourselves and look after our own personal advantage, we may as well die the minute we are born, or, better still, never be born at all. There is no one living, . . at least not in the wide realm of Al-Kyris,—who would put himself to the smallest inconvenience for the sake of another, were that other his nearest and dearest blood-relation. And in matters of love and friendship, ‘tis the same as in business,—each man eagerly pursues his own chance of enjoyment,—even when he loves, or fancies he loves, a woman, it is solely because her beauty or attractiveness gives HIM temporary pleasure, not because he has any tenderness or after-regard for the nature of HER feelings. How can it be otherwise? … We elect friends that are useful to US

personally,—we care little for THEIR intrinsic merit, and we only tolerate them as long as they happen to suit OUR taste. For generally, on the first occasion of a disagreement or difference of opinion, we shake ourselves free of them without either regret or remorse, and seek others who will be meek enough not to offer us any open contradiction. It is, and it must be always so: Self is the first person we are bound to consider, and all religions, if they are intended to last, must prudently recognize and silently acquiesce in this, the chief dogma of Man’s constitution.”

 

Sahluma laughed. “Excellently argued, most politic Zel!” he exclaimed.. “Yet methinks it is easy to worship Self without either consecrated altars or priestly assistance!”

 

“Thou shouldst know better than any one with what facility such devotion can be practiced!” returned Zel ironically, rising as he spoke, and beginning to wrap his mantle round him preparatory to departure—“Thou hast a wider range of perpetual adoration than most men, seeing thou dost so fully estimate the value of thine own genius! Some heretics there are in the city, who say thy merit is but a trick of song shared by thee in common with the birds, . .

who truly seem to take no pride in the particular sweetness of their unsyllabled language, . . but thou thyself art better instructed, and who shall blame thee for the veneration with which thou dost daily contemplate thine own intellectual powers? Not I, believe me!”.. and his crafty eyes glittered mockingly, as he arranged his silver gauze muffler so that it entirely veiled the lower part of his features, . . “And though I do somewhat regret to learn that thou, among other noblemen of fashion, hast of late taken part in the atheistic discussions encouraged by the Positivist School of Thought, still, as a priest, my duty is not so much to reproach as to call thee to repentance. Therefore I inwardly rejoice to know thou wilt present thyself before the Shrine tonight, if only for the sake of custom …”

 

“‘Only’ for the sake of custom!” repeated Sahluma amusedly—“Nay, good Zel, custom should be surely classified as an exceeding powerful god, inasmuch as it rules all things, from the cut of our clothes to the form of our creeds!”

 

“True!” replied Zel imperturbably. “And he who despises custom becomes an alien from his kind,—a moral leper among the pure and clean.”

 

“Oh, say rather a lion among sheep, a giant among pigmies!”

laughed the Laureate,—“For by my soul, a man who had the courage to scorn custom, and set the small hypocrisies of society at defiance, would be a glorious hero! a warrior of strange integrity whom it would be well worth travelling miles to see!”

 

“Khosrul was such an one!” interposed Theos suddenly.

 

“Tush, man! Khosrul was mad!” retorted Sahluma.

 

“Are not all men thought mad who speak the truth?” queried Theos gently.

 

The priest Zel looked at him with proud and supercilious eyes.

 

“Thou hast strange notions for one still young,” he said … “What art thou? … a new disciple of the Mystics? … or a student of the Positive Doctrines?”

 

Theos met his gaze unflinchingly. “What am I?” he murmured sadly, and his voice trembled, … “Reverend Priest, I am nothing! …

Great are the sufferings of men who have lost their wealth, their home, their friends, … but I … I have lost Myself! Were I anything … could I ever hope to be anything, I would pray to be accepted a servant of the Cross, … that far-off unknown Faith to which my tired spirit clings!”

 

As he uttered these words, he raised his eyes, … how dim and misty at the moment seemed the tall white figure of the majestic Zel! and in contrast to it, how brilliantly distinct Sahluma’s radiant face appeared, turned toward him in inquiring wonderment!

… He felt a swooning dizziness upon him, but the sensation swiftly passed, and he saw the haughty Priest’s dark brows bent upon him in a frown of ominous disapproval.

 

“‘Tis well thou art not a citizen of Al-Kyris”—he said scornfully—“To strangers we accord a certain license of opinion, —but if thou wert a native of these realms, thy speech would cost thee dear! As it is, I warn thee! … dare not to make public mention of the Cross, the accursed Emblem of the dead Khosrul’s idolatry, … guard thy tongue heedfully!—and thou, Sahluma if thou dost bring this rashling with thee to the Temple, thou must take upon thyself all measures for his safety. For in these days, some words are like firebrands, and he who casts them forth incautiously may kindle flames that only the forfeit of his life can quench.”

 

There was a quiver of suppressed fury in his tone, and Sahluma lifted his lazy lids, and looked at him with an air of tranquil indifference.

 

“Prithee, trouble not thyself, most eminent Zel!” he answered nonchalantly … “I will answer for my friend’s discretion! Thou dost mistake his temperament,—he is a budding poet, and utters many a disconnected thought which hath no meaning save to his own fancy-swarming brain,—he saw the frantic Khosrul die, and the picture hath impressed him for the moment—nothing more! I pledge my word for his demurest prudence at the Service tonight—I would not have him absent for the world, … ‘twere pity he should miss the splendor of a scene which doubtless hath been admirably contrived, by priestly art and skill, to play upon the passions of the multitude. Tell me, good Zel, what is the name of the self-offered Victim?”

 

The Priest flashed a strangely malevolent glance at him.

 

“‘Tis not to be divulged,” he replied curtly—“The virgin is no longer counted among the living … she is as one already departed—the name she bore hath been erased from the city registers, and she wears instead the prouder title of ‘Bride of the Sun and Nagaya.’ Restrain thy curiosity until night hath fallen,—it may be that thou, who hast a wide acquaintance among fair maidens, wilt recognize her countenance.”

 

“Nay, I trust I know her not”—said Sahluma carelessly—“For, though all women die for me when once their beauty fades, still am I loth to see them perish ere their prime.

 

“Yet many are doomed to perish so”—rejoined the Priest impassively—“Men as well as women,—and methinks those who are best beloved of the gods are chosen first to die. Death is not difficult, … but to live long enough for life to lose all savor, and love all charm, … this is a bitterness that comes with years and cannot be consoled.”

 

And retreating slowly toward the door, he paused as he had previously done on the threshold.

 

“Farewell, Sahluma!” he said … “Beware that nothing hinders thee from the fulfillment of thy promise! … and let thy homage to the Holy Maid be reverent at the parting of the Silver Veil!”

 

He waited, but Sahluma made no answer—he therefore raised his staff and described a circle with it in the same solemn fashion that had distinguished his entrance.

 

“By the coming-forth of the Moon through the ways of Darkness, . .

by the shining of Stars, . . by the Sleeping Sun and the silence of Night, . . by the All-Seeing Eye of Raphon and the Wisdom of Nagaya may the protection of the gods abide in this house forever!”

 

As he pronounced these words he noiselessly departed, without any salutation whatever to Sahluma, who heaved a sigh of relief when he had gone, and, rising from his couch came and placed one hand affectionately on Theos’s shoulder.

 

“Thou foolish, yet dear comrade!” he murmured.. “What moves thee to blurt forth such strange and unwarrantable sayings? … Why wouldst thou pray to be a servant of the Cross? … or why, at any rate, if thou hast taken a fancy for the dead Khosrul’s new doctrine, wert thou so rash as to proclaim thy sentiment to yon unprincipled, bloodthirsty Zel, who would not scruple to poison the King himself, if his Majesty gave sufficient cause of offence!

Dost thou desire to be straightway slain?—Nay, I will not have thee run thus furiously into danger,—thou wilt be offered the Silver Nectar like Nir-jahs, and not even the intercession of my friendship would avail to save thee then!”

 

Theos smiled rather sadly.

 

“And thus would end for ever my mistakes and follies, . .” he answered softly.. “And I should perchance discover the small hidden secret of things—the little, simple unguessed clue, that would unravel the mystery and meaning of Existence! For can it be that the majestic marvel of created Nature is purposeless in its design?—that we are doomed to think thoughts which can never be realized?—to dream dreams that perish in the dreaming? … to build up hopes without foundation? … to call upon God when there is no God? … to long for Heaven when there is no Heaven? … Ah no, Sahluma!—surely we are not the mere fools and dupes of Time, … surely there is some Eternal Beyond which is not