Atlantic Monthly by - (a court of thorns and roses ebook free .TXT) 📕

“Horatio, I am not certain what would be best. They never belonged together. But at your request, I will go and see what I can do.”

I went. Susan received me with an effort at a smile, which was a failure, and at my inquiry for Pendlam, burst into tears.

“He is not dead, I hope.”

“No,” sobbed Susan.

“Nor in jail?”

“No.” Another sob.

“Nor in any serious trouble?”

“Trouble enough, Heaven knows! Mother has gone. I don’t know what to do. All the nice people we used to visit with have turned against us.”

“But our happiness does not depend upon nice people, you know, dear Susan.”

“But he is getting into the strangest ways! Shabby folks, with long beards, come to see him. He has left off family devotions.”

Susan was weeping; when, at a quick step in the hall, she took alarm, and hurried from the room, just in time to hide her tears from her husband.

“Alone?” said Pendlam.

“No; Susan has just left me.”

“I am glad you have come. I have thought for several days that I required your magnetism. Every thing with me now is magnetism. My nature demands a certain magnetism, as the appetite demands a certain quality of food. There are coarse magnetisms, and fine magnetisms; yours is peculiarly agreeable to me. Some repel me, and some attract irresistibly. I have only to follow my impressions, to get what is necessary for me. That’s where I am,” said Pendlam.

He urged me to stay and dine; and as I desired an opportunity to converse further with Susan, I consented. I was surprised to see a dish of roast meat come upon the table,—Pendlam having, for the past year, preached vegetarianism. But he assured me that he had not changed his theory of dietetics.

“There are times, however, when we require the magnetisms of certain animal foods. To-day I perceived that my system demanded the magnetism of lamb. If your constitution is wanting in the lamb element, you will find this tender.”

Pendlam, I should observe, had neglected to say grace.

“Your theory of magnetisms,” said I, “would seem a very convenient one. To-morrow, for example, you can require the magnetism of roast beef. The next day, the magnetisms of turtle-soup and venison will be found agreeable. The magnetisms of some birds are said to be excellent. And I have no doubt but in time you will arrive at the discovery, that the magnetism of a certain distilled beverage, called brandy, stimulates digestion.”

Pendlam laughed and blushed.

“I have not forgotten that for three good years of my life I waged war against King Alchohol. (Will you try a bit of the lamb?) But I do not push my principles over the verge of prejudice, as those do who condemn the grape.”

“Condemn the grape?” I repeated.

“The juice of the grape, which is the same thing. Where this can be obtained pure, it will be found highly beneficial to persons on a certain plane. The grape magnetism is eminently spiritualizing.”

So saying, to my utter astonishment, Pendlam uncorked a small bottle, which I had supposed to contain pepper-sauce, and commenced pouring out WINE.

“This will answer in lieu of grace,” I suggested.

“The act of prayer,” said Pendlam, “has indisputable uses. It opens the avenues to an influx of spiritual magnetisms. But where the mind is kept in the receptive condition without the aid of the external form of prayer, this becomes like a scaffolding after the house is built. Step by step, I have been led to this high spiritual plane.”

Susan, as of old, sat and sighed.

Pendlam found my magnetism so attractive, that it was impossible for me to obtain a minute’s conversation with Susan alone. I departed, wearied and disheartened with her sad, despairing face haunting me.

I had little further personal knowledge of Pendlam’s career, until Horatio came for me, one evening, to attend a meeting of the Disciples of Freedom.

We found the Melodeon crowded by one of those stifling audiences for which no ventilation seems availing. A portion had come to be interested, a portion to be amused. To the former, the object of the meeting was wise and great; to the latter, it was ridiculous enough to be worth an evening’s senseless laughter. For my own part, only the strong desire I felt to observe the characteristics of a new sect daily increasing in numbers and influence could induce me to undergo the exhaustion of sitting an hour in such an assembly.

We took seats in an obscure corner, and looked around. Here were curious, lank stalks of humanity, which seemed to have been raked from unheard-of, outlandish stubbles. Occasionally, in beautiful relief out of these, a clear, full-berried stem of ripened grain lifted its gracious head. It was a strange mixture; a strange power, indeed, that had swept together such promising wheat and such refuse chaff and straw in one incongruous mass.

We turned our eyes to the platform. There sat Pendlam, with other prominent Disciples. A young man was speaking wise and beautiful words. From the well of a deep and sincere soul he drew needed counsel for the perishing multitude; said what he seemed impelled to say, and sat down. He was followed by a sallow-visaged, black-bearded speaker, who poured forth abundant venomous froth of denunciation. He had caught enough of the phraseology of the more philosophical Disciples, to impress the earnest ignorant with some show of profundity. I was glad when his stream dried up. Pendlam next arose and read a paper upon “Magnetisms and Organizations.” After him, came forward a gentleman with a model, illustrating the design of a dwelling-house for the Associated Disciples. He showed, entirely to the satisfaction of himself at least, that society should be reduced to a mechanism, and mankind to pivots and wheels. This was the dawn of the millennial era. The world was to be saved by organization. First, an association; then an association of associations, which should spread over the United States, abolish taxes, banks, slavery, and private property, elect its president, annex South America, the British and Russian possessions, and eventually Europe, Africa, and Asia. The model dwelling-house was likened to a manger, in which Christ was to be born, at his second coming. The speaker ended by introducing the “Practical Organizer of the Initial Association of Free Disciples.”

Horatio and myself had already remarked upon the platform an individual whose features seemed somehow familiar to us. He was rather stoutly built, full-faced, of a sanguine complexion and temperament. His mouth indicated both sensuality and decision of character. His forehead was prominent and low, his eye keen, his neck thick and muscular. We were not surprised to see him arise and step forward as the Practical Organizer of the Initial Association of Free Disciples.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said he, “I am no orator. I am a business man. I am not here to make a speech, but to tell you about the practical part of this Association.”

At the first words he spoke, a flood of recollections rushed over me. For a moment my breath was quite taken away.

“I know him!” “I remember him!” Horatio and I whispered almost simultaneously.

His voice was unmistakable. He was the fellow who had flogged Pendlam four years before.

Extremes had met. The temperance missionary and the infuriate liquor-dealer stood upon the same platform.

Soon after, we took our leave. We walked up and down in the fresh air. How sweet, how cool it seemed, after an hour spent amid the heated breaths of the packed audience!

I had parted from my friend, and was returning home, when I met two persons walking arm in arm. I heard one of them say,—

“I find that no great work can be accomplished, without due regard paid to magnetisms; and in organization, we must take care that they are harmoniously distributed. I find that I now assume relations with every individual according to these subtile laws. You see where I am,” said Pendlam.

For Pendlam was the speaker. His companion was the Practical Organizer of the Initial Association of Free Disciples.

I went home, filled with a multitude of reflections. Strong interest led me soon after to pay a visit to Pendlam’s house. As I went in, I met a man coming out. He had a stout frame, keen eye, sensual mouth, sanguine complexion, muscular neck.

“Susan,” said I, “who is that man?”

“One of my husband’s friends,” answered Susan, in some confusion.

“And yours?”—eyeing her closely.

“Oh, he comes frequently to the house; I see him occasionally.”

“‘Tis he who gave Pendlam that bottle of wine?”

“I believe so.”

“And that flogging, Susan!”

“Oh, they have made that up,” said Susan, innocently.

“If they are satisfied, I have nothing to say. Are you happy, Susan?” for a change had come over her, which I did not readily understand.

“Oh, dear!” said Susan, “we have had so much trouble!” She began to give way to her emotions. “We have lost all our old friends. Mother never comes near us now. Sometimes I don’t know what we shall do. Tell me what you think of it;—is Henry so much out of the way as people think? He certainly knows more than anybody else, and I don’t see how he can be wrong.” She ended with a sob,

“You are aware,” I answered, “that Pendlam and I partly agree in every thing, and wholly agree in nothing. He is right, and he is wrong. He takes hold of what is a truth, but detaches it from universal truth, and so it becomes an error.” I saw she did not comprehend. “But never despair,” I added, “The future depends upon you.”

“What can I do?” she pleaded.

“Remain firm in principle, dear Susan. Whatever happens, stand true to him and to yourself. Do that, and all will be well.”

The crying of her child, which was sick, called her away. I sought Pendlam’s study. I found him busily writing. He was pale and thin, and there was a wild brightness in his eye which did not please me.

“You, of all men!” he exclaimed. “Sit down.” He closed the door, with an air of mystery. “I was just writing to you.”

“To me? Then I have saved you the trouble of employing a messenger.”

“Susan would be mortified and incensed, if she knew what I am about to say. But truth is truth. She is perishing; I see new evidence of it every day. It is for want of magnetisms. I have little to give her, and what I have is not such as she requires. Do not be astonished when I tell you I have discovered that there do not exist between us the requisite affinities.”

I smiled; for Pendlam was continually announcing discoveries of facts I had discovered long before.

“You see where I am,” said Pendlam. “I am compelled to go to other women for the magnetisms I need; she must receive what she requires from other men.”

“That is interesting,” I replied. “What is the peculiar process of imparting these magnetisms?”

“Sometimes by conversation,—sometimes by the contact of hands,—perhaps by a kiss; no rule is laid down; the process must depend upon the kind of magnetism to be imparted.”

“Very naturally. But what have I to do with all this?”

“I will tell you. I was not Susan’s first choice; but you were. That fact is very significant; it shows an affinity. And what I desire is, that—”

“My dear John Henry,” I interrupted, “allow me to say that you are quite mistaken. If I know any thing of affinities, there is none between Susan and myself; no more, I judge, than there is between you and